CHARLES GAMAGE EASTMAN. A SNOW-STORM IN VERMONT. I. 'Tis a fearful night in the winter time, The roar of the blast is heard, like the chime The moon is full, but her silver light II. All day had the snow come down,—all day, And over the hills at sunset lay Some two or three feet, or more; The night sets in on a world of snow, And the Norther!-See! on the mountain peak, III. Such a night as this to be found abroad, In the drifts and the freezing air,— Sits a shivering dog in the field by the road, With the snow in his shaggy hair! He shuts his eyes to the wind, and growls; A farmer came from the village plain, And for hours he trod, with might and main, But colder still the cold wind blew, In vain, with a neigh and a frenzied snort, While her master urged, till his breath grew short, But the snow was deep, and the tugs were tight; With his coat and the buffalo. IV. He has given the last faint jerk of the rein And the poor dog howls to the blast in vain, For a while he strives, with a wistful cry, And whines when he takes no heed. √. The wind goes down, and the storm is o'er : The old trees writhe and bend no more The silent moon, with her peaceful light, But cold and dead, by the hidden log, In the wide snow-desert, far and grand, With his cap on his head, and the reins in his hand,— And the mare half seen through the crusted sleet, THE FARMER. THE farmer sat in his easy chair, Smoking his pipe of clay, While his hale old wife with busy care A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes The old man laid his hand on her head, As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye- The house-dog lay stretch'd out on the floor The busy old wife by the open door Was turning the spinning-wheel; And the old brass clock on the manteltree Still the farmer sat in his easy chair, While close to his heaving breast The moisten'd brow and the cheek so fair Of his sweet grandchild were press'd; His head, bent down, on her soft hair layFast asleep were they both, that summer day. DIRGE. SOFTLY! With her lips apart. Of a broken heart. Whisper ! To her final rest. Whisper ! Life is growing Dim within her breast. Gently! She is sleeping; She has breathed her last. While you are weeping, JOHN GODFREY SAXE. Born at Highgate, Vermont, 1816 THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT. Ir was six men of Indostan, To learning much inclined, Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation Might satisfy his mind. The First approach'd the Elephant, Against his broad and sturdy side, "God bless me ! but the Elephant The Second, feeling of the tusk, Cried-"Ho! what have we here The Third approach'd the animal, The squirming trunk within his hands, "I see "-quoth he-"the Elephant very like a snake!' Is The Fourth reach'd out his eager hand, And felt about the knee: "What most this wondrous beast is like Is mighty plain"-quoth he, ""Tis clear enough the Elephant Is very like a tree!" The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, Said " E'en the blindest man Can tell what this resembles most; Deny the fact who can, This marvel of an Elephant Is very like a fan!" The Sixth no sooner had begun About the beast to grope, Then, seizing on the swinging tail "I see "-quoth he,-" the Elephant |