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Casa Wappy.
Thou wert a vision of delight

To bless us given;
Beauty embodied to our sight,

A type of Heaven :
So dear to us thou wert, thou art
Even less thine own self than a part
Of mine and of thy mother's heart,

Casa Wappy!
Gem of our hearth, our household pride,

Earth's undefiled;
Could love have saved, thou hadst not died,

Our dear, sweet child !
Humbly we bow to God's decree;
Yet had we hoped that time should see
Thee mourn for us, not us for thee,

Casa Wappy!
Do what I may, go where I will,

Thou meet'st my sight;
There dost thou glide before me still-

A form of light !
I feel thy breath upon my cheek-
I see thee smile, I hear thee speak-
Till, oh ! my heart is like to break,

Casa Wappy!

The nursery shows thy pictured wall,

Thy bat, thy bow,
Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball;

But where art thou ?
A corner holds thine empty chair,
Thy playthings idly scatter'd there,
But speak to us of our despair,

Casa Wappy!

And though, perchance, a smile may gleam

Of casual mirth,
It doth not own, whate'er may seem,

An inward birth:

* The self-conferred pet name of an infant son of the poet, taken from earth after a very brief illness.

We miss thy small step on the stair ;
We miss thee at thine evening prayer;
All day we miss thee, everywhere,

Casa Wappy!

Then be to us, 0 dear, lost child !

With beam of love,
A star, death's uncongenial wild

Smiling above;
Soon, soon thy little feet have trod
The skyward path, the seraph's road,
That led thee back from man to God,

Casa Wappy!

Farewell, then-for a while, farewell —

Pride of my heart !
It cannot be that long we dwell,

Thus torn apart:
Time's shadows like the shuttle flee;
And dark howe'er life's night may be,
Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee,

Casa Wappy!


That Name, how often ebery Day.
That name ! how often every day

We spake it and we heard;
It was to us, 'mid tasks or play,

A common household word.
'Tis breathèd yet, that name—but oh!

How solemn now the sound !
One of the sanctities which throw

Such awe our homes around. TRENCII.

Heroisms of Home. There are homesteads which have witness'd deeds That battle-fields, with all their banner'd pomp, Have little to compare with. Life's great play May, so it have an actor great enough, Be well perform'd upon a humble stage.





We must be free or die, who speak the tongue

That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.-In every thing we are sprung
Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.


What is it that you would impart to nie?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i'the other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.


Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's cause
Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse,
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down
To latest times; and sculpture, in her turn,
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass
To guard them, and t' immortalise her trust.





YE clouds! that far above me float and pause,

Whose pathless march no mortal may control !

Ye Ocean-Waves ! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods ! that listen to the night-bird's singing,

Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches, swinging,

Have made a solemn music of the wind !
Where, like a man beloved of God,
Through glooms, which never woodman trod,

How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,

Inspired beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound ! O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!

And 0 ye Clouds that far above me soar'd !
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!

Yea, every thing that is, and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
With what deep worship I have still adorer
The spirit of divinest Liberty.


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