tle arms to clasp me round?
Ah! yes, God will send knowledge from the skies,
In pity for my prayers, and tears, and sighs,
Angels will sing for joy that I have found
My treasure, and _he_--he will hear the sound!

Cold--cold it is--the wind is bitter chill--
And the rain falls like curses on my head--
No! no! not curses, for the drops say still
That there's an end to sorrow, and all ill
Flows from us like the water down a hill;
The star shall shine, and all the clouds be sped....

* * * * *

The sought-for Star uprose upon the dead.

UNDER THE SEA.

Deep in the bosom of the ocean,
Where sunshine fades to twilight gloom,
The pure pearls lie, and the coral bloom
Rests unsway'd by the upper motion--
Calm and still the hours pass by
The lovely things that sleeping lie,
Deep in the bosom of the ocean.

The thunder rolls from cloud to cloud,
And the bitter blast sweeps o'er the sea,
Shaking the waters mightily;
But ne'er the tempest's voice so loud,
Sinketh down to the things that lie--
The lovely things that sleeping lie,
Deep in the bosom of the ocean.

The icebergs crack with a sullen boom,
Riven by the hands of the angry North;
And, like the Angel of Wrath sent forth,
The whirlwind stalks with the breath of doom,
Crushing, like dust 'neath its heavy tread,
The last frail spar o'er the seaman's head;
But nought can reach the things that lie--
The lovely things that sleeping lie,
Deep in the bosom of the ocean.

Deep in the bosom of God's-acre,
Beyond the reach of grief or care,
As sweetly rest the good and fair,
Where Life's rude foes can ne'er o'ertake her;
Calmly and sweetly the hours pass by
The blessed ones who sleeping lie,
Deep in the bosom of God's-acre.

Patience! thou poor one, faint and weary,
For thou shalt come unto this rest,
And leaning on a mother's breast,
Forget the world to thee so dreary:
Calmly and sweetly the hours pass by
The happy ones who hoping lie
Deep in the bosom of God's-acre.

WIND.

Oh! weird West Wind, that comest from the sea,
Sad with the murmur of the weary waves,
Wand'ring for ever through old ocean caves,
Why troublest thou the hearts that list to thee,
With echoes of forgotten misery?

The night is black with clouds that thou art bringing
From the far waters of the stormy main,
Welling their woes forth wearily in rain,
Betwixt us and the light their da