Crushed the little fern, and soft moist, clay
Covered it and hid it safe away.

Oh, the long, long centuries since that day!
Oh, the agony; oh, life's bitter cost

Since that useless little fern was lost!

Useless! Lost! There came a thoughtful man
Searching Nature's secrets far and deep;
From a fissure in a rocky steep

He withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran
Fairy pencillings, a quaint design,
Veining, leafage, fibres clear and fine,
And the fern's life lay hid in every line!
So, I think, God hides some souls away,
Sweetly to surprise us in the last day.

THE WIND'S MISCHIEF.

CLARA DOTY BATES.

The wind was out for a frolic,
And a merry wight was he;

With flying wings and whistling mouth
Up he came, from the far warm south,
To see what he could see.

And he saw in Gold-Lock's garden
A full-blown apple tree;

And where the leaves were cosiest
With leaf and blossom, he saw a nest

As cunning as could be.

And he paused in his mad-cap flying,
And murmured roguishly:

“Oh, what will happen to that bird-house
If I toss and tumble and shake the boughs?
I'll do it just to see!"

So he caught the blossomed branches

And shook with a wicked glee;
Shook and shook, again and again,
And down there sprinkled a rosy rain
Out from the apple tree.

But the birdlings in the bird's nest
Slumbered so cosily

That the mother sang in words like these:
66 Oh, what a loving, beautiful breeze
To rock my babies for me!"

GALILEO IN PRISON.

FRANCIS E. RALEIGH.

Far 'neath the glorious light of the noontide,
In a damp dungeon, a prisoner lay,
Aged and feeble, his failing years numbered,
Waiting the fate to be brought him that day.

Silence, oppressive with darkness, held durance-
Death in the living, or living in death;

Crouched on the granite, and burdened in fetters,
Inhaling slow poison with each labored breath.

O'er the damp floor of his dungeon there glistened
Faintly the rays of a swift-nearing light;

Then the sweet jingle of keys that soon opened
The door and revealed a strange scene to his sight.

In the red glare of the sickening torches,
Held by the grey-gowned soldiers of God,
Gathered a group that the world will remember
Long ages after we sleep 'neath the sod.

Draped in their robes of bright scarlet and purple,
Bearing aloft the gold emblems of Rome,
Stood the chief priests of the Papal dominion,
Under the shadow of Peter's proud dome.

By the infallible pontiff commanded,
From his own lips their direction received;
Sent to demand of the wise Galileo

Denial of all the wise truths he believed:

Before the whole world to give up his convictions,
Because the great church said the world had not moved;
Then to swear before God that his science was idle,
And truth was unknown to the facts he had proved.
So loosing his shackles, they bade the sage listen
To words from the mouth of the vicar of God:
"Recant thy vile doctrines and life we will give thee;
Adhere, and the road to the grave is soon trod!"

His doctrines-the truth, as proud Rome has acknowledged,
On low bended knee in that vault he renounced;
Yet, with joy in their eyes, the high priests retiring,
"Confinement for life," as his sentence pronounced.

But, as they left him, their malice rekindled

Fires that their threats had subdued in his breast. Clanking his chains, with fierce ardor he muttered, "But it does move, and tyrants can ne'er make it rest."

BUNKER HILL ODĚ.

GEORGE SENNOTT.

Heroes of Greek renown!

Ye who, with floods of Gersian gore,
Purpled Cychreia's (') sounding shore!
Strong wielders of the Dorian spear!
And ye, dear children of the dear
The Holy Violet Crown! (*)
Ye live to-day. Distance and time
Vanish before our longing eyes;
And fresh in their eternal prime
The demi-gods arise.

(1) A very ancient name of Salamis.
(2) A favorite title of the city of Athens.

Fierce breed of iron Rome! Ye whose relentless eagles' wings, O'ershadowing subjugated kings, With hate and black destruction fraught, To every hateful tyrant brought

His own cursed lesson homeSmile sternly now. A free born race

Here draws your proudest maxims in, And eagerly, in ample space,

A mightier Rome begin.

Savage, yet dauntless crew!

Who broke with grim unflinching zeal
The mighty Spaniard's heart of steel;
When ye, with patriotic hands,

Bursting the dykes that held your lands,
Let death and freedom through.

Arise in glory! Angry floods

And haughty bigots all are tame;

But ye, like liberating gods,
Have everlasting fame!

Ye few rock nurtured menSuliote, or Swiss, whose crags defied Burgundian power and Turkish prideWhose deeds, so dear to freemen still, Make every Alp a holy hill,

A shrine each Suliote glenRejoice to-day. No little bands

Face here the exulting despot's horde; But Freedom sways with giant hands Her ocean sweeping sword.

Chiefs of our own blest land,

To whom turned long oppressed mankind
A sacred refuge here to find-
Of every race the pride and boast,
From wild Atlantic's stormy coast
To far Pacific's strand-

Millions on millions here maintain

Your generous aims with steady will, And make your vast imperial reign

Blue gulf all around us,

Blue sky overhead;

Muster all on the quarter-
We must bury the dead.

It is but a Danish sailor,
Rugged of front and form-
A common son of the forecastle,
Grizzled with sun and storm.

His name and the strand he hailed from

We know and there's nothing more;

But perhaps his mother is waiting
In the lovely island of Fohr.

Still, as he lay there dying,

Reason drifting awreck,

""Tis my watch," he would mutter, "I must go upon deck!"

Aye, on deck, by the foremast!

But watch and lookout are done;

The Union Jack laid o'er him,

How quiet he lies in the sun!

Slow the ponderous engine;
Stay the hurrying shaft;
Let the roll of the ocean
Cradle our giant craft;
Gather around the grating,
Carry your messmate aft!