THE MORNING CALL.

‘ By meekness charm'd, or proud to allow

A queenly claim to live admired,

Full many a lady has ere now

My apprehensive fancy fired,

And woven many a transient chain;

But never lady like to this,

Who holds me as the weather-vane

Is held by yonder clematis.

She seems the life of nature's powers;

Her beauty is the genial thought

Which makes the sunshine bright; the flowers,

But for their hint of her, were nought.’

A voice, the sweeter for the grace

Of suddenness, while thus I dream'd,

‘ Good morning!’ said or sang. Her face

The mirror of the morning seem'd.

Her sisters in the garden walk'd,

And would I come? Across the Hall

She led me; and we laugh'd and talk'd,

And praised the Flower-show and the Ball;

And Mildred's pinks had gain'd the Prize;

And, stepping like the light-foot fawn,

She brought me‘ Wiltshire Butterflies,’

The Prize-book; then we paced the lawn,

Close-cut, and with geranium-plots,

A rival glow of green and red;

Than counted sixty apricots

On one small tree; the gold-fish fed;

And watch'd where, black with scarlet tans,

Proud Psyche stood and flash'd like flame,

Showing and shutting splendid fans;

And in the prize we found its name.

The sweet hour lapsed, and left my breast

A load of joy and tender care;

And this delight, which life oppress'd,

To fix'd aims grew, that ask'd for pray'r.

I rode home slowly; whip-in-hand

And soil'd bank-notes all ready, stood

The Farmer who farm'd all my land,

Except the little Park and Wood;

And with the accustom'd compliment

Of talk, and beef, and frothing beer,

I, my own steward, took my rent,

Three hundred pounds for half the year;

Our witnesses the Cook and Groom,

We sign'd the lease for seven years more,

And bade Good-day; then to my room

I went, and closed and lock'd the door,

And cast myself down on my bed,

And there, with many a blissful tear,

I vow'd to love and pray'd to wed

The maiden who had grown so dear;

Thank'd God who had set her in my path;

And promised, as I hoped to win,

That I would never dim my faith

By the least selfishness or sin;

Whatever in her sight I'd seem

I'd truly be; I'd never blend

With my delight in her a dream

‘ Twould change her cheek to comprehend;

And, if she wish'd it, I'd prefer

Another's to my own success;

And always seek the best for her

With unofficious tenderness.

Rising, I breathed a brighter clime,

And found myself all self above,

And, with a charity sublime,

Contemn'd not those who did not love:

And I could not but feel that then

I shone with something of her grace,

And went forth to my fellow men

My commendation in my face.