To a Butterfly.

STAY near me-do not take thy flight;
A little longer stay in sight:

Much converse do I find in thee,

Historian of my infancy!

Float near me; do not yet depart

Dead times revive in thee:

Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art,
A solemn image to my heart-
My father's family!

Oh, pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chas'd the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush

Upon the prey; with leaps and springs
I follow'd on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her! fear'd to brush

The dust from off its wings.

The Solitary Reaper.

BEHOLD her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass.
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen, for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound!

No nightingale did ever chant

More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt Among Arabian sands;

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas, Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago.

Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That hath been and may be again?

Six feet in earth my Emma lay;
And yet I loved her more-
For so it seemed-than till that day

I e'er had loved before.

And, turning from her grave, I met, Beside the churchyard-yew,

A blooming girl, whose hair was wet With points of morning dew.

A basket on her head she bare;

Her brow was smooth and white: To see a child so very fair,

It was a pure delight!

No fountain from its rocky cave
E'er tripped with foot so free;
She seemed as happy as a wave
That dances on the sea.

There came from me a sigh of pain,
Which I could ill confine;

I looked at her, and looked again,— And did not wish her mine!"

Matthew is in his grave; yet now,
Methinks, I see him stand,

As at that moment, with a bough
Of wilding in his hand.