The Youths Coronal | Page 4

golden corn,
While her hands were raised, to invert a horn

That was
filled with a sweet and mellow store,
And the purple clusters were
hanging o'er.
She bade me seize on the fruit that should last
When
the harvest was gone, and Autumn had past.
But, when I had paused
to make the choice,
I saw no bark! and I heard no voice!
Then I looked on a sight that chilled my blood!
'Twas a mass of ice,

where an old man stood
On his frozen float; while his shrivelled hand

Had clenched, as a staff by which to stand,
A whitened branch that
the blast had broke
From the lifeless trunk of an aged oak.
The
icicles hung from the naked limb,
And the old man's eye was sunken
and dim.
But his scattering locks were silver bright,
His beard with
gathering frost was white;
The tears congealed on his furrowed cheek,

His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak.
He faintly uttered,
while drawing near,
"Winter, the death of the short-lived year,
Can
yield thee nought, as I downward tend
To the boundless sea, where
the Seasons end!
But I trust from others, who've gone before,

Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store
And now, what
tidings am I to bear
Of thee--for I shall be questioned there?"
I asked my mother, who o'er me bent,
What all this show of the
Seasons meant?
She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw;
And the
useful moral myself must draw!
I woke, and found that thy song was stilled,
And the sun's bright
beams my room had filled!
But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep

In mind the dream of my morning sleep!
=Fanny Spy=
Lucy, Lucy, come away!
Never climb for things so high.
Don't you
know, the other day,
What fell out with Fanny Spy?
Fanny spied, a loaf of cake,
Wisely set above her reach;
Yet did
Fanny think to make
In its tempting side a breach.
When she thought the family
Out of sight and hearing too,
Forth a
polished table she
Quickly to the closet drew.
First, she stepped upon a chair;
Then the table--then a shelf;

Thinking she securely there
Might, unnoticed, help herself.

Then she seized a heavy slice,
Leaving in the loaf a cleft
Wider
than a dozen mice,
Feasted there all night, had left.
Stepping backward, Fanny slid
On the table's polished face:--
Down
she came, with dish and lid,
Silver--glass--and china vase!
In, from every room they rushed,
Father--mother--servants--all,

Thinking all the closet crushed,
By the racket and the fall.
'Mid the uproar of the house,
Fanny, in her shame and fright,

Wished herself indeed a mouse,
But to run and hide from sight.
Yet was she to learn how vain,
Poor and worthless, is a wish.

Wishing could not lull her pain,
Hide her shame, nor mend a dish.
There she lay, but could not speak;
For a tooth had made a pass

Through her lip; and to her cheek
Clung a piece of shivered glass.
From her altered features gushed
Rolling tears, and streaming gore;

While, untasted still, and crushed,
Lay her cake upon the floor.
Then the doctor hurried in:
Fanny at his needle swooned,
As he
held her crimson chin,
And together stitched the wound.
Now her face a scar must wear,
Ever till her dying day!
Questioned
how it happened there,
What can blushing Fanny say?
=Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly=
"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I,
Up in the air, who used to lie

Flat on the ground, for the passers by
To treat with utter neglect!

But none will suspect that I am the same;
With a bright, new coat,
and a different name;
The piece of nothingness whence I came
In me they'll never detect.

"That horrible night in the chrysalis,
Which brought me at length to a
day like this,
In a form of beauty--a state of bliss,
Was little enough
to give
For freedom to range from bower to bower,
To flirt with the
buds, and flatter the flower,
And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour,

The envy of all that live.
"Why, this is a world of curious things,
Where those who crawl, and
those that have wings,
Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings,

No matter how much the worth
May be on the side of those who
creep,
Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep,
Others
from notice, and proudly keep
Uppermost on the earth!
"Many a one that has loathed the sight
Of the piteous worm, will take
delight
In welcoming me, as I look so bright
In my new and
beautiful dress.
But some I shall pass with a scornful glance,
Some,
with an elegant nonchalance;
And others will woo me, till I advance

To give them a slight caress."
"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one
Through which I'm
commissioned, at once, to run
From back to breast, till, your
fluttering done,
Your form may be fairly shown.
And when my
point shall have reached your heart,
'T will be as a balm to the
wounded part,
To think how you're to be copied by art,
And your
beauty will all be known!"
=The Stricken Bird=
Here's the last food your poor mother can bring!
Take it, my suffering
brood.
Oh! they have stricken me under