S2ELECTIONS FROM      THE POETS.                                      281
And when,     ethisappletree,                                Yet thepoorerofthe twain is
The winter stars are quivering bright,                         Cleon, and not 1.
And winds go howling through the night,
Girls, whose eyes o'erflow with mirth,                       Con, true, possesseth acres,
Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,                        Bat the landscapa, I;
And guests in prouder homes shall see,                     Half the charms to me it yieldeth,
Heaped with the orange and the grape,                          Money cannot buy.
As fair as they in tint and shape,                           Cleon harbors sloth and dullness,
The fruit of the apple-tree.                                 Freshening vigor, I;
He in velvet, I in fustian,
The fruitage of this apple-tree                                Richer man ant I.
Winds, and our flag of stripe and star,
Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,                          Cleon is a slave to grandeur,
Where men shall wonder at the view,                            Free as thought am I ;
And ask in what fair groves they grew;                       Cleon fees a score of doctors,
And they who roam beyond the sea                             Need of none have I ;
Shall think of childhood's careless day,                     Wealth-surrounded, care-environed,
And long hours passed in summer play,                          Cleon fears to die ;
In the shade of the apple-tree.                            Death may come, he'll find me ready,
Each year shall give the apple-tree                            Happier man am I.
A broader flush of roseate bloom,                            Cleon sees no charm in Nature,
And loosen, when the frost-clouds lower,                       In a daisy, I;
The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower;                    Cleon hears no anthem, ringing
The years shall come and pass, but we                        In the sea and sky ;
Shall hear no longer, where we lie,                          Nature sings to me forever,
The summers song, the autumn's sigh,                           Earnest listener, I;
In the boughs of the apple-tree.                            State for state, with all attendants,
And time shall waste this appldtree.                           Who would c     ?- Not I
Oh, when its aged branches throw                                       _
Thin shadows on the sward below,
Shall fraud~ and force and iron will                                  HANNAH JANE.
Oppress the weak and helpless still?                                        - PV
What shall the tasks of mercy be,.                                .
Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears                 HE i n't half so h   es when, twenty yearsagone,
Ofthose who live when length of years                 At her old home inPiketo,PonAvrymadeusoe
Is wasting this apple-tree?                           The great house crowded full of  of every
"Who planted this' old apple-tree?"                     The girls all envying THannah Jane, the boysalil envy
The children of that distant day                         ing me.
Thustoi some aged man shall say'                   Her fingers then were taper, and her shin as*weranmlk,
And, gazing on its mossy stem,                     Her brown hair- what a mess it was ! and soft an  as
The grey-hai    an shall answer them:                  silk;
" A potof the land was he,                       No wind-moved willow by a brook had ever suha grace,
Born in the rude, but good old times;              The form of Aphrodite, with a pure Madonna face.
'Tis said lhe made some quaint old rhymes,mege ci~ug                            erlttente,t
O~  laAng hea~setre"Were full of crooked po-ok,and the worstorhgay
Her " dear" he s     wthdouble eand "ki    wi but
AND 1.                                    one s ;
But when one's crazed with !pass  what a    more or
BY CARLE MACAY.less ?
LEON  ath  millon ares,She blund,ered in her writing, and sh blnee              hn she
Ne'e a oe hae Ispoke,
In a cottagt!, I                 Bt she was beautiful and fresh, and I -wl,Iasyug