THE LIGHT OF OUR HOME.

Oh, thou whose beauty on us beams With glimpses of celestial light; Thou halo of our waking dreams, And early star that crown'st our night— Thy light is magic where it falls; To thee the deepest shadow yields; Thou bring'st unto these dreary halls The lustre of the summer-fields. There is a freedom in thy looks To make the prisoned heart rejoice;— In thy blue eyes I see the brooks, And hear their music in thy voice. And every sweetest bird that sings Hath poured a charm upon thy tongue; And where the bee enamored clings, There surely thou in love hast clung:— For when I hear thy laughter free, And see thy morning-lighted hair, As in a dream, at once I see Fair upland scopes and valleys fair. I see thy feet empearled with dews, The violet's and the lily's loss; And where the waving woodland woos Thou lead'st me over beds of moss;— And by the busy runnel's side, Whose waters, like a bird afraid, Dart from their fount, and, flashing, glide Athwart the sunshine and the shade. Or larger streams our steps beguile;— We see the cascade, broad and fair, Dashed headlong down to foam, the while Its iris-spirit leaps to air! Alas! as by a loud alarm, The fancied turmoil of the falls Hath driven me back and broke the charm Which led me from these alien walls:— Yes, alien, dearest child, are these Close city walls to thee and me: My homestead was embowered with trees, And such thy heritage should be:— And shall be;—I will make for thee A home within my native vale Where every brook and ancient tree Shall whisper some ancestral tale. Now once again I see thee stand, As down the future years I gaze, The fairest maiden of the land— The spirit of those sylvan ways. And in thy looks again I trace The light of her who gave thee birth; She who endowed thy form and face With glory which is not of Earth. And as I gaze upon her now, My heart sends up a prayer for thee, That thou may'st wear upon thy brow The light which now she beams on me. And thou wilt wear that love and light For thou'rt the bud to such a flower:— Oh fair the day, how blest and bright, Which finds thee in thy native bower!