ΤΟ

MRS. ΑΝΝ

STEELE,

OF KENTUCKY.

ANGEL of my saddest hours,
Unto thee I weave my lay,
Thou like sunlight midst the flowers,
In a gloomy, darksome day,
Bringest with thy gentle presence
Cheerfulness and heart's delight-

All of joyance, glee and pleasance,
Like the moon which comes at night.

Ever in my heart's lone sadness,

When death watched-the spectre gaunt

Came thine angel form of gladness,

And 'round thee night grew radiant!

Then I almost seemed to listen

To the voice of one above-

Wings seemed on thee, which did glisten In the hallowed light of love.

As in May, the breezes warming,
From dark earth bring blossoms rife ;
So didst thou, with gayness charming,
Raise from death, the rose of life;
Staying Time, with scythe uplifted,
Poised to strike life's flower, dead,
And from earth, by storm blast drifted,
Rear anew its drooping head.

Angel of my saddest hours,

Like the Autumn birds which stay

In the dropping leafy bowers,

When the Summer fleets away, Gladdening with their songs the gayest, All the thick embrownéd wood, And amid eve's shadows greyest, Lighting up its solitude.

Thou, like music heard in sorrow,
Luring man from dreams of woe,
Seemest from the skies to borrow

Solace for the world below;

174

то Ꮇ Ꭱ Ꮪ . ANN STEELE.

Wooing from grief's mournful folly,
With a tender touching kiss,
Till thy cheek, pale, Melancholy,
Wears a rosy glow of bliss.

Dearest angel! thou hast lighted
With thy lamp this soul of mine,
And into my heart benighted,

Rays from thy gold pinions shine,
Till like poor Icelandic lover,

Where the North Light paints the snows,

I see the rainbows o'er me hover,

And forget all former woes.

COLUMBIA,

THE QUEEN OF THE WEST.

A SONG.

HAIL! hail to the land of Liberty's birth,
The sweet sunny clime she loves best,
The home of her heart, and the Eden of earth,
Columbia, the Queen of the West!

On each hand giant oceans are sleeping,
Lake pearls on her brow glitter sweet,
O'er the Gulf come the blue billows sweeping,
And kiss the white sands at her feet.

Her yeomen defend their homes on the shore,
Her bold sailors sweep the deep sea,

And battle may rage, or tempest may roar,
But God guards the home of the free;

176 COLUMBIA, THE QUEEN OF THE WEST.

And the heart that the tyrant is crushing,
'Mid Europe's oppression and wars,
To the standard of freedom comes rushing,
And clings to the stripes and the stars!

From Maine's snowy hills with cloud kissing pines, To Florida's blossom-clad glades,

To the new realm of Gold with its glittering mines,
Its prairies, and dark forest shades,

Not a knee of a mortal there bendeth
In all the wide land to a throne,
But the hymn of the million ascendeth
For a God and a land of our own!

Then hail! to young Freedom, who rides on the storm,
Like Jove, with his thunder-bird bold,

In the high blue of heaven we see her fair form,
While we kneel, and we bless to behold,

And we shout, with our voices in chorus,
Bright Land! be thy name ever blest!

While the spirit of Washington o'er us
Smiles on the young Queen of the West!—