POETRY.

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tkfOm tee ~. ~. Weekty hsCteeU.I SABBATH MORNING IN SPRING. How lovely! on the distant hills

 Morn weayes her cOrOnals of light, And every blushing valley fills -. With golden forms and visions bright, As mid the bowers and clear blue streams Of Eden roved, when like our dreams Ofperfect bliss, the moments flew On pinions bathed in heavenly dew! IL is pure and blessed hour.

 The sky hangs beautiful and mild Above the waves. The rocks that tower,

 Along the steep go grey and wild, Seem aItars which in ages gone, Mankind had thrown their incense on: And through the deep and viewless air, Sent forth their solemn voice ofprnyer. Bright clouds inlaid with hues of gold,

 Float OCT the horizon's wavelessb blue; As though each Wreathed and yelling fold,

 An angels form were gleaming through: Flown from his sapphire home above, To give one holy look oflove; Yet think that what is brightness here Would fade in hght of his own sphere! Around one vast and glorious shrine,

 All living things of nature bow, While breathings pure and thoughts divine

 Devotion's wing is waiting now, And bower, and stream, and forests dim Tn gladness pour their morning hymn. For Earth in all her realms is blest With Gods unbroken Sabbath rest. Ase | H HERMIoN