POETRY.

THE TgREE HOMES.
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THE 1NESEiG AAOS"A~e "where is thy home 2" I asked child, Who. in the morning air, Was swining flowers, most sweet and wild, Tn earIands for her hair: "My homc," the happy heart replied, And smiled in childish gIee, els on the sunny mountain side, Where soft winds wander iree." O! blessings fall on arlless youth, And all its rosy hours, When every word is joy and truth, And treasures live in flowers. "Where is thy home" I asked of enc Who bent, with flushing face, To hear a warriors tender tone, In the wild woods secret place; She spoke not, but her varying cheek The tale might we'll impart; The home of her young spirit, meek, Was in a kindred heart. An! souls that we'll may soar above, To earth will fondly cling, And build their hopes on human love, That light and fragile thins "Where is thy home, thou lonely mani" asked pilgrim grey, Who came with furrowed brow, and van, Slow musiDg on his way; He paused, and, with a solemn mien, UPturned his holy eyes, The land seek thou ne'er has. seen, My home is in tho skies 70 o, blest, thrice blest that heart must be, To whom such thoughts are given, That walks from worldly fetters free; Its only home is heaven!