EARTH'S ANSWER.

ARTH raised up her head

From the darkness dread and drear.

Her light fled,

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watery shore,
Starry Jealousy does keep my den:
Cold and hoar,

Weeping o'er,

I hear the father of the ancient men.

Selfish father of men, Cruel, jealous, selfish fear,

Can delight,

Chain'd in night,

The virgins of youth and morning bear?

G

Does Spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower

Sow by night,

Or the ploughman in darkness plough?

Break this heavy chain

That does freeze my bones around—

INFANT SORROW.

MY

Y mother groan'd, my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt;

Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father's hands,
Striving against my swaddling-bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.

MY PRETTY ROSE-TREE.

A

FLOWER was offer'd to me,

Such a flower as May never bore; But I said, I've a pretty rose-tree, And I pass'd the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my pretty rose-tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turn'd away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.