O spare ! and let it still outspread Its beauties to the passing eye, And look up from its lowly bed Upon the sky. O spare my flower ! T'hou know'st not what Thy undiscerning hand would tear : A thousand charms thou notest not Lie treasured there. Not Solomon, in all his state, Was clad like nature's simplest child ; Nor could the world combined create One floweret wild. Spare then this humble monument Of an Almighty's power and skill ; And let it at His shrine present Its homage still. He made it who makes nought in vain : He watches it who watches thee ; And he can best its date ordain Who bade it be. O spare my flower—for it is frail ; A timid, weak, imploring thing- Its moral Aling. Catch the suggestion, and apply :“Go, live like me,” it cries; “ like me Soon, soon to die.” ASPIRATIONS. I would not always sail Upon a sunny sea : The mountain wave, the sounding gale, Have deeper joys for me. Let others love to creep Along the flowery dell : Among the storms, to dwell. The rock, the mist, the foam, The wonderful, the wild- And claim me for their child. The whirlwind's rushing wing, The stern volcano's voice, To me an awful rapture bring : I tremble, and rejoice. I love thy solemn roar, Thou deep, eternal sea, Sounding along from shore to shore The boundless and the free. I love the flood's hoarse song, The thunder's lordly mirth, The midnight wind, that walks along The hushed and trembling earth ; The mountain, lone and high, The dark and silent wood, The desert stretched from sky to sky In awful solitude. A presence and a power In scenes like these I see : The stillness of a midnight hour Has eloquence for me. Then, bursting earth's control, My thoughts are all at flood : I feel the stirrings in my soul Of an immortal mood. My energies expand ; My spirit looks abroad; And, midst the terrible and grand, Feels nearer to her God. Let others tamely weigh The danger and the pain : To share the joy and gain. |