BLUNT SHIELD FERN. The green palmy fern, which the softest and

mildest Of summer's light breezes could ruffle.

BARtox.

What though no gaudy hue attract the eye,
Endow'd with form of justest symmetry,
The breeze of spring no lovelier thing hath

fann'd,
Than the light foliage of the feathery band
Of ferns; who crowd the heath, or deep recess
Of many a grove and tangled wilderness,
With their green vases ;* formed to vie with

those Which Grecian art, fond and exulting, chose To crown the graceful pillar-and to me, Far-famed Acanthus, not less fair than thee, (Such as I know thee, sculptured with nice hand,) Rise the slight fern-plants of my native land.

(MS.)

L. N.

CONCLUDING LINES.
The dead leaves strew the forest walk,

And wither'd are the pale wild flowers ; The frost hangs blackening on the stalk,

The dewdrops fall in frozen showers. Gone are the spring's green sprouting bowers

Gone summer's rich and mantling vines; And autumn, with her yellow hours,

On hill and plain no longer shines.

I'll gaze upon the cold, north light,
And mark where all its glories shine,
See-that it all is fair and bright,
Feel—that it all is cold and gone !

BRAINARD.

But yon are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have

Their end, though ne'er so brave.
And after they have shown their pride,
Like you awhile, they glide
Into the grave.

HERRICK,