New-York tribune., 1871-12-15

toiumnnins with the spirit Of the sssa
Mos like tho mountains voice when evening greets
49, fou silent on his cliffs.
Tho poem ahounds with similar apt and faithful
deliucations Of local features, which will bo recog
niycd Il, and enjoyed by readers familiar with
thosccnrs gltl ough their simplicity and occasional
obscuIiy may impair the impression on the critical
and unsympathliug stranger. We must make room
for the effective description Of the true scholar
which oocuIs toward the close of the yolnme
Thc cl,trring hIit of power ol,~tructs the mass
Ws Ml,' Sn, We & b%y Ch% y.n"rc 5H tread rs shore
Arn"d ~ wcaIes a thyns,t - y, ,,,iS d,tI'S i ,'ei'
Wen The mild pla net pearls our waorN clouds,
And scarce reveals the light herself la; made
thodgh, T. In the tries and seas and skies;
LhTks ON the rivers breast or skins the grove;
tillttcrs at twilight of the fodng clonds; M ,o,r,
kpcaks from young eyes, and unObs within the hert
Na,Deless, uufatbOmed, dIik, yet LOVING light
Tlis iio The scholar loves, iii, life he iraaihes;
Without this life he could H., tread the path
VI %no ,aT SS ns iiy MSF s5n to HsaE.l as W. @
l. .et so firmly IL it~ ""-- ut can>c =
The cG & % G .s paI% r.cn TlG' , @ "ryt T 1"ss s verse;
Lit viii, ;riC stial radailcr. IL ii. the shes,
Assuuset In her purple> i,t''"s iir east
With fo.cpan,ed moftiEs.
From thu grave he lead,
Old glori.s "a new life. Hts memory throws
It's still soft light across heavenly path. ,,,
with saints, with priests, the WIS., inc great he bouS
dread communion, and hi. thought embam'
Lake ambcr, sweetness Of all iinl"s hi, hs nope
That yet through infinite ages vast ,
lie sti1 beholds IA stream, where man snai sweep
ToeAeel the glory of his pre- sent Iclsn,
And thrones and empires stand where'er man
Plants his hrn tread on the subjected gr,, globe,
Make then. hi function saint \" ana superb!
He his tue good to teach nlor' than the old.
Revolving new society. new laws,
As IN her froic, nature upward scars
through bush and glen and cedu c"!'>es dark,
Where the blue berries show ike oceans hi"ou
And 'cr the chestnut hills Whose gray rocks pt ep,
And far Delos. tyond the sandy iak"
nf
The scholar CLEANS his flii hiu eA profound
To read the c,rcl iH epoh thing hc sco>--
To love, " got IT, kuow. .-..-S'~D
Tie fe.bly n,ea snrcd current Of his fate.
He rises ike the suU in r0s.atc poDp;
Like him he sinks IN sllepdor down ,niid sars;
A. subjects 10 his throne, the learned haste
Focus for all their rays For him the seas
fy FSf n rrfSw iSsy IRON IRON oer the iapd with With aa
And glass in lightning his pr,jeetiie thought.
Nor less the star him pleasures in her speech.
Whether in vocan fierce she lifts the heavens,
OR casts In golden sands the rivers chain.
His logic suits 10 each the prize be draws
30 long az the race rises, and IN him
It's wiee Ierfcctng skilled creation claim!
But Mr.. Channing's happcst touches, we think,
ere in the minute hits of colorlng with which he
clothes many of the familiar objects of daily
experience, and often of a sufficiently homey char
Acter. OF these give few examples
hARCH WOODS.
In March
The sbckeicd darngs Of the Spring. whose leaves,
Earliest unbound Ia broad verairuln, take
The gaBer's eye; and watched the rOwsllps gold
In fOrelooking mood; and heard the bre
Hum ia the Gala, while The bcs.lcs rings
Drpw their white circles ON the cleaning sand
FUr he could sce and trust see and delight!
TIE hCsiC THE OWL.
OFT iR the season
Dresry to the mind, sad at it, codrs hour
A foathery drumming from sone wood hear
OF pine behind my Landscape lying far
softly rolling hum, o feathery sob.
me nusic Of the owl, softest OF sound,,
Halt buried In itself, and far beyond
Al pathways that tread, and Yet u part,
Truly fraction Of the Winter sum,
When every figure counts. 30 far from msn
1his svesisst owl. which human speech calls hootng
THE rIIMOusR.
Yet mark tie it-mice,-
ensllAst Of the tribe, speeks OF feathers,
Btu Of painted quill, 30 delicate. y hsw
Prom either role would extlrIslte the race
e0eb little twittrring mites eOnteiDn the stOrm
THE THRCsII.
ID THE sweet solitude, the Mountains life,
~ morn and eve. 81 rice aud kuSn o. day.