The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain

Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.

The wind-flower and the violet they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the sum

mer glow;

But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the

wood,

And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,

Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,

And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.

And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come,

To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter

home,

When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,

And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fra

grance late he bore,

And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream

no more.

And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty

died,

The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my

side;

In the cold moist earth we laid her when the forest

cast the leaf,

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so

brief;

Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,

So gentle and so beautiful should perish with the flowers. Wm. Cullen Bryant.

THE APPLE-DUMPLINGS AND GEORGE THE

THIRD.

NCE in the chase, this monarch drooping,
From his high consequence and wisdom stooping,
Entered, through curiosity, a cot,

Where an old crone was hanging on the pot;
The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good old granny,
In this same cot, illumed by many a cranny,
Had apple-dumplings ready for the pot;
In tempting row the naked dumplings lay,
When, lo! the monarch, in his usual way,
Like lightning asked, "What's here? what's here?
What? what? what? what?"

Then taking up a dumpling in his hand,
His eyes with admiration did expand-

And oft did majesty the dumpling grapple;

"'Tis monstrous, monstrous, monstrous hard," he cried; "What makes the thing so hard?" The dame replied, Low courtesying, "Please your majesty, the apple." "Very astonishing, indeed! strange thing!" (Turning the dumpling round,) rejoined the king, "Tis most extraordinary now, all this is

It beats the conjurer's capers all to pieces

Strange I should never of a dumpling dream;

But, Goody, tell me, where, where, where's the seam ?” "Sire, there's no seam," quoth she; "I never knew That folks did apple-dumplings sew!"

"No!" cried the staring monarch, with a grin, "Then, where, where, where, pray, got the apple in?"

Wolcot.

I

GRANDMOTHER TENTERDEN.

MASSACHUSETTS SHORE, 1800.

MIND it was but yesterday

The sun was dim, the air was chill;
Below the town, below the hill,

The sails of my son's ship did fill

My Jacob, who was cast away.

He said, "God keep you, mother dear,"
But did not turn to kiss his wife;
They had some foolish, idle strife;
Her tongue was like a two-edged knife,
And he was proud as any peer.

Howbeit, that night I took no note
Of sea nor sky, for all was drear;
I marked not that the hills looked near,

Nor that the moon, though curved and clear,
Through curd-like scud did drive and float.

Yet with my darling went the joy
Of autumn woods and meadows brown;
I came to hate the little town;

It seemed as if the sun went down

With him, my only darling boy.

It was the middle of the night —
The sea upon the garden leapt,
And my son's wife in quiet slept,
And I, his mother, waked and wept,
When lo! there came a sudden light.

And there he stood! his seaman's dress
All wet and dripping seemed to be;
The pale blue fires of the sea

Dripped from his garments constantly

I could not speak through cowardness.

"I come through night and storm," he said, "Through storm and night and death," said he, "To kiss my wife, if it so be

That strife still holds 'twixt her and me,

For all beyond is Peace," he said.

"The sea is His, and He who sent The wind and wave can soothe their strise; And brief and foolish is our life."

He stooped and kissed his sleeping wife, Then sighed, and, like a dream, he went.

Now, when my darling kissed not me,
But her his wife- who did not wake,
My heart within me seemed to break:
I swore a vow! nor thenceforth spake
Of what my clearer eyes did see.

And when the slow weeks brought him not, Somehow we spoke of aught beside;

For she her hope upheld her pride;

And I in me all hope had died,

And my son passed as if forgot.

It was about the next spring-tide,
She pined and faded where she stood;
Yet spake no word of ill or good;
She had the hard, cold Edward's blood
In all her veins and so she died.

One time I thought, before she passed,
To give her peace, but ere I spake
Methought, "He will be first to break
The news in heaven," and for his sake
I held mine back until the last.

And here I sit, nor care to roam;
I only wait to hear his call;
I doubt not that this day, next fall,
Shall see me safe in port; where all
And every ship at last comes home,

And you have sailed the Spanish main,
And know my Jacob? . . . . Eh! Mercy!
Ah, God of wisdom! hath the sea
Yielded its dead to humble me!

No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day,

No sky, no earthly view,

No distance looking blue,

No road, no street, no "t' other side the way,"