DESERT LILIES.

DESERT lilies, desert lilies!
Blooming gaily in the sand

Of this untrodden land;

With your leaf as soft and green,
With your flower as fair in tint,
As delicate in form

As beautiful in hue,

As fragrant and as fresh,

As sweet at morn or even,

As bright with smiles and dew,

As in our happier plains

Cherished by genial rains.

Desert lilies, desert lilies!

Shining quietly like gems,
Upon your verdant stems;

With no breath of man to dim you,

With no city-smoke to taint you,
With no hand of man to pluck you,

With no eye of man to see you,

With no care of man to tend you,
With no child's glad face to watch you,
As you spring and as you bloom;
With no sorrowing lip to mourn you,
As you fade and as you die.

Nought but the wind's caress
In this lone wilderness!

Desert lilies, desert lilies!

Bidding welcome to the ray
Of this fierce-flaming day,
Courting no cloud, nor shade
Of rock, or cliff, or glade,
Opening your purple eyes
Unfearing to these skies.

What sunlight ye have seen,
What moonshine in these heavens,

What starlight clear and glad,

What soft dew at early dawn,

What cool breezes o'er this waste!

What sunsets ye have seen,

On these wondrous peaks around,
What tints of purple glow,

At sunset or at morn?

What strange and solemn airs

Have ye heard, as all night long

Ye listened, night by night,

Coming forth from yon wild crags,
Moving out along these slopes,
Stealing down yon mighty hill
To the silent sands beneath,
Creeping thro' the wiry boughs
Of these tarfas, far and near!

O life, how glad and blest,
Thou seem'st in such a waste!
O beauty, what a power,
To cheer in loneliest hour!

O earth, where is the spot,
Which thy God visits not?
On which his eye of light
Rests not in gentle love;
O'er its most barren sands,
Rejoicing from above!

O desert rocks, if one small leaf,

Can make these wastes look fair,

What will ye be when these scorched plains,
Earth's richest buds shall bear ?

When eastern suns shall cease to scorch,
And storms no more destroy;

And these lone valleys shall give forth

Their streams, and flowers, and joy.

THE FRIEND.

THERE is a star in yonder sky,
Above all stars it seems to shine,

'Tis long since first it fixed my eye,
And I have learned to call it mine.

It rose out of my own blue sea,

Then passed above those mountains green, Moving along all placidly

As if it loved to watch the scene.

Far up the heavens it floated slow
Gleaming across yon solemn tower,
As if it loved the scene below ;—
A willing lingerer hour by hour.

It seemed to take its place each night,
As sentinel to guard my rest,

An eye of love and gentle light,

Pouring sweet thoughts into my breast.

In through my lattice as I lay

Half soothed to sleep, it nightly shone, And as I gazed upon its ray

I felt that I was not alone.

What tears that gentle star has dried, What joy that sparkling orb has given ; Thoughts for this earth too high, too wide, Dreams of its own all-radiant heaven.

It spoke of day beyond this night,
In the glad land where all is fair;
It pointed to the home of light,

And bid me rest my spirit there.

It spoke of Him whose love is light,
Whose death is life, whose cross is peace,

Whose favour is the star of night,

The source and pledge of endless bliss.

May I not love that star on high?

May not its light the fairest seem ?

May I not trace a loving eye,

A kindly smile in every beam?