CLII. THE PLEASANT RAIN.

FROM MILLER.

1. THE pleasant rain! the pleasant rain!
By fits it plashing falls

On +twangling leaf and dimpling +pool;
How sweet its warning calls!
They know it, all the blooming vales,
High slopes and verdant *meads;
The queenly elms and princely oaks,
Bow down their grateful heads.

2. The withering grass, and fading flowers,
And drooping shrubs look gay;

The bubbling brook, with gladlier song,
+Hies on its endless way;

All things of earth, the grateful things,
Put on their robes of cheer;

They hear the sound of the warning burst,
And know the rain is near.

3. It comes! it comes! the pleasant rain!
I drink its cooler breath;

It is rich with sighs of fainting flowers,
And roses' fragrant death;

It hath kiss'd the tomb of the lily pale,
The beds where violets die;

And it bears their life on its living wings;
I feel it wandering by.

4. And yet it comes! The lightning's flash
Hath torn the lowering cloud!

With a distant roar and a nearer crash,
Out bursts the thunder loud.

It comes, with the rush of a god's descent,
On the hush'd and trembling earth,
To visit the shrines of the hallow'd groves,
Where a poet's soul had birth.

5. With a rush, as of a thousand steeds,
Is its swift and glad descent;
Beneath the weight of its passing tread,

The conscious groves are bent;

Its heavy tread, it is lighter now,
And yet, it passeth on;

And now it is up, with a sudden lift,

The pleasant rain hath gone.

6. The pleasant rain! the pleasant rain!
It hath pass'd above the earth:

I see the smile of the opening cloud,
Like the parted lips of mirth.
The golden joy is spreading wide
Along the blushing west,

And the happy earth gives back her smiles,
Like the flow of a grateful breast.

7. As a blessing sinks in a grateful heart,
That knoweth all its need,

So came the good of the pleasant rain,
O'er hill and verdant +mead.

It shall breathe this truth on the human ear,
In hall and cotter's home,

That to bring the gift of a bounteous heaven,

The pleasant rain hath come.

CLIII. THE SNOW-FLAKE.

FROM MISS GOULD.

HANNAH F. GOULD was born in Lancashire, Vermont, in 1792. Her poems are full of beauty and sprightliness, and are always instructive.

IRIS; the rainbow.

1. "Now if I fall, will it be my lot

4.

To be cast in some low and cruel spot?
To melt or sink unseen or forgot?

And then will my course be ended?"

'Twas thus a feathery Snow-Flake said,

As down through the measureless space it stray'd,
Or, as half by dalliance, half afraid,

It seem'd in mid air suspended.

"Oh, no," said the Earth, "thou shalt not lie,

Neglected and lone, on my lap to die,
Thou fine and delicate child of the sky:

For thou wilt be safe in my keeping;
But then, I must give thee a lovelier form;
Thou 'lt not be a part of the wintry storm,

But revive when the sunbeams are yellow and warm,
And flowers from my bosom are peeping.

3. "And then thou shalt have thy choice to be

Restored in the lily that decks the flea,

In the *jessamine bloom, the tanemone,
Or aught of thy spotless whiteness:
To melt and be cast in a glittering bead,

With the pearls that night scatters o'er the mead,
In the cup where the bee and the fire-fly feed,
Regaining thy dazzling brightness:

4. "To wake, and be rais'd from thy transient sleep, Where Viola's mild blue eye shall

5.

weep; In a tremulous tear or a diamond, leap

In a drop from the unlock'd fountain;

Or leaving the valley, the meadow, and heath,
The streamlet, the flowers, and all beneath,
To go and be worn in the silvery wreath,

+Encircling the brow of the mountain.

"Or wouldst thou return to a home in the skies,
To shine in the Iris, I'll let thee arise,
And appear in the many and glorious dyes,
A pencil of sunbeams is blending.

But true, fair thing, as my name is Earth,
I'll give thee a new and †vernal birth,
When thou shalt recover thy +primal worth,
And never regret descending."

6. "Then I will drop," said the trusting Flake;
"But bear it in mind, that the choice I make,
Is not in the flowers or the dew to awake,

Nor the mist that shall pass with the morning
For things of thyself, they expire with thee;
But those that are lent from on high, like me,
They rise, and will live, from thy dust set free,
To the regions above returning.

7 “And if true to thy word, and just thou art,
Like the spirit that dwells in the holiest heart,
+Unsullied by thee, thou wilt let me depart,

And return to my native heaven;
For I would be placed in the beautiful bow
From time to time in thy sight to glow,
So thou may'st remember the flake of Snow,

By the promise that God hath given.”

CLIV.

THE TEACHER AND SICK SCHOLAR.
FROM DICKENS.

1. SHORTLY after the schoolmaster had arranged the forms and taken his seat behind his desk, a small white-headed boy with a sun-burnt face appeared at the door, and stopping there to make a trustic bow, came in and took his seat upon one of the forms. He then put an open book, astonishingly +dog's-eared, upon his knees, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, began counting the marbles with which they were filled; displaying, in the expression of his face, a remarkable capacity of totally abstracting his mind from the spelling on which his eyes were fixed.

2. Soon afterward, another white-headed little boy came straggling in, and after him, a red-headed lad, and then, one with a flaxen poll, until the forms were occupied by a dozen boys, or thereabouts, with heads of every color but gray, and ranging in their ages from four years old to fourteen years or more; for the legs of the youngest were a long way from the floor, when he sat upon the form; and the eldest was a heavy, good-tempered fellow, about half a head taller than the schoolmaster.

3. At the top of the first form-the post of honor in the school-was the vacant place of the little sick scholar; and, at the head of the row of pegs, on which those who wore hats or caps were wont to hang them, one was empty. No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg, but many a one looked from the empty spaces to the schoolmaster, and whispered to his idle neighbor, behind his hand.

4. Then began the hum of conning over lessons and getting them by heart, the whispered jest and stealthy game, and all the noise and drawl of school; and in the midst of the din sat the poor schoolmaster, vainly attempting to fix his mind upon the duties of the day, and to forget his little sick friend. But the tedium of his office reminded him more strongly of the willing scholar, and his thoughts were +rambling from his pupils-it was plain.

5. None knew this better than the idlest boys, who, growing bolder with impunity, waxed louder and more daring; play

ing "odd or even" under the master's eye; eating apples openly and without rebuke; pinching each other in sport or *malice, without the least reserve; and cutting their initials in the very legs of his desk. The puzzled dunce, who stood beside it to say his lesson "off the book," looked no longer at the ceiling for forgotten words, but drew closer to the master's elbow, and boldly cast his eye upon the page; the wag of the little troop squinted and made *grimaces (at the smallest boy, of course,) holding no book before his face, and his approving companions knew no constraint in their delight. If the master did chance to rouse himself, and seem alive to what was going on, the noise subsided for a moment, and no eye met his, but wore a studious and deeply humble look; but the instant he relapsed again, it broke out afresh, and ten times louder than before.

6. Oh! how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside, and how they looked at the open door and window, as if they half *meditated rushing violently out, plunging into the woods, and being wild boys and savages from that time forth. What rebellious thoughts of the cool river, and some shady bathing-place, beneath willow trees with branches. dipping in the water, kept tempting and urging that sturdy boy, who, with his shirt-collar unbuttoned, and flung back as far as it could go, sat fanning his flushed face with a spellingbook, wishing himself a whale, or a minnow, or a fly, or any thing but a boy at school, on that hot, broiling day.

7. Heat! ask that other boy, whose seat being nearest to the door, gave him topportunities of gliding out into the garden, and driving his companions to madness, by dipping his face into the bucket of the well, and then rolling on the grass, ask him if there was ever such a day as that, when even the bees were diving deep down into the cups of the flowers, and stopping there, as if they had made up their minds to retire from business, and be manufacturers of honey no more. The day was made for laziness, and lying on one's back in green places, and staring at the sky, till its brightness forced the gazer to shut his eyes and go to sleep. And was this a time to be poring over musty books in a dark room, slighted by the very sun itself? Monstrous !

8. The lessons over, writing time began. This was a more