Go, crow thy cuckoo notes

Till all the greenwood alleys loud are ringing—
Go, listen to the thousand tuneful throats
That 'mong the leaves are singing!

I would not sadden thee,

Nor wash the rose upon thy cheeks with tears : Go, while thine eye is bright-unbent thy knee— Forget all cares and fears!

YOUTH! is thy boyhood gone?—
The fever hour of life at length has come,
And passion sits in reason's golden throne,
While sorrow's voice is dumb!

Be glad it is thy hour

Of love ungrudging-faith without reserveAnd from the right, Ill hath not yet the power

To make thy footsteps swerve!

Now is thy time to know

How much of trusting goodness lives on earth; And rich in pure sincerity to go

Rejoicing in thy birth!

Youth's sunshine unto thee

Love first and dearest, has unveil'd her face,
And thou hast sat beneath the trysting tree,

In love's first fond embrace !

Enjoy thy happy dream,

For life hath not another such to give;

The stream is flowing-love's enchanted stream, Live, happy dreamer, live!

Though sorrow dwelleth here,

And falsehood, and impurity, and sin,

The light of love, the gloom of earth to cheer, Come sweetly, sweetly in!

"Tis o'er-thou art a MAN!

The struggle and the tempest doth begin

Where he who faints must fail-he fight who can

A victory to win!

Say, toilest thou for gold?

Will all that earth can give of drossy hues
Compensate for that land of love foretold,
Which Mammon makes thee lose?

Or waitest thou for power?

A proud ambition, trifler, doth thee raise!

To be the gilded bauble of the hour

That fools may wondering gaze!

But wouldst thou be a man

A lofty, noble, uncorrupted thing,

Beneath whose eye the false might tremble wan, The good with gladness sing?

Go, cleanse thy heart, and fill

Thy soul with love and goodness; let it be

Like yonder lake, so holy, calm, and still,
And full of purity!

This is thy task on earth

This is thy eager manhood's proudest goal;-
To cast all meanness and world-worship forth-
And thus exalt the soul !

"Tis manhood makes the man

A high-soul'd freeman or a fetter'd slave,
The mind a temple fit for God to span,
Or a dark dungeon-grave!

God doth not man despise,

He gives him soul-mind-heart-that living flame;
Nurse it, and upwards let it brightly rise
To heaven, from whence it came !

Go hence, go hence, and make

Thy spirit pure as morning, light and free!
The pilgrim shrine is won, and I awake-
Come to the woods with me!

DEATH.*

THE dew is on the summer's greenest grass,
Through which the modest daisy blushing peeps ;
The gentle wind that like a ghost doth pass,
A waving shadow on the corn-field keeps;
But I who love them all shall never be

Again among the woods, or on the moorland lea!

The sun shines sweetly-sweeter may it shine-
Bless'd is the brightness of a summer day;
It cheers lone hearts; and why should I repine,
Although among green fields I cannot stray?
Woods! I have grown, since last I heard you wave,
Familiar with death, and neighbor to the grave!

These words have shaken mighty human souls-
Like a sepulchre's echo drear they sound-
E'en as the owl's wild whoop at midnight rolls
The ivied remnants of old ruins round.

Yet wherefore tremble? Can the soul decay ?—

Or that which thinks and feels in aught e'er fade away?

* This poem is imagined to be the last, or among the very last of Nicoll's compositions.

Are there not aspirations in each heart,

After a better, brighter world than this?

Longings for beings nobler in each part

Things more exalted-steeped in deeper bliss? Who gave us these? What are they? Soul! in thee The bud is budding now for immortality!

Death comes to take me where I long to be;

One pang, and bright blooms the immortal flower; Death comes to lead me from mortality,

To lands which know not one unhappy hour :

I have a hope—a faith ;—from sorrow here
I'm led by death away-why should I start and fear!

If I have loved the forest and the field,

Can I not love them deeper, better, there? If all that power hath made, to me doth yield

Something of good and beauty-something fair— Freed from the grossness of mortality,

May I not love them all, and better all enjoy?

A change from woe to joy-from earth to heaven,
Death gives me this-it leads me calmly where

The souls that long ago from mine were riven

May meet again! Death answers many a prayer. Bright day! shine on-be glad :-Days brighter far Are stretched before my eyes than those of mortal are!