The Youth's Coronal.

by Hannah Flagg Gould.

ADDRESS

TO THE YOUTH OF MY COUNTRY.

In preparing the following pages, my aim has been, to produce a book alike entertaining and instructive;--one which, in the reading, should afford an amus.e.m.e.nt to the mind, pleasant as the spring-blossoms on the tree; and, in its influences on the heart in after life, be like the good fruits that succeed and ripen, to refresh and nourish us, when the vernal season is over and gone, and the voices of the singing-birds are lost in the distance.

Choosing an appropriate t.i.tle for such a presentation, I have borrowed my idea from the words of the wise king of Israel:--"Hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother; for they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head," &c., and other Scripture pa.s.sages of similar figurative meaning; for, though often given in a sportive way, it is my design that no moral shall be conveyed in the volume, but such as a good and judicious parent would wish a child to imbibe.

Accept, then, my young Friends, this new CORONAL of the little flowers of poesy which I have woven for you. When you shall have examined and scented it, and found no thorn to pierce--no juice or odor to poison you in its whole circle, wear it for the giver's sake; and enjoy it and profit by its healthful influences, for your own.

Gladly would I feel a.s.sured that, in some future years,--when I shall have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy scenes and arduous duties of mature life,--the import of these leaves may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness, like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the lilies and violets we have pa.s.sed and left far behind us, in our morning rambles. Then, if not to-day, you will be convinced that I was--as now I am,

Your true Friend,

H. F. GOULD.

Newburyport, Ma.s.s., August, 1850.

=The Sale of the Water-Lily=

And these would sometimes come, and cheer The widow with a song, To let her feel a neighbor near, And wing an hour along.

A pond, supplied by hidden springs, With lilies bordered round, Was found among the richest things, That blessed the widow's ground.

She had, besides, a gentle brook, That wound the meadow through, Which from the pond its being took, And had its treasures too.

Her eldest orphan was a son; For, children she had three; She called him, though a little one, Her hope for days to be.

And well he might be reckoned so; If, from the tender shoot, We know the way the branch will grow; Or, by the flower, the fruit.

His tongue was true, his mind was bright; His temper smooth and mild: He was--the parent's chief delight-- A good and pleasant child.

He'd gather chips and sticks of wood The winter fire to make; And help his mother dress their food, Or tend the baking cake.

In summer time he'd kindly lead His little sisters out, To pick wild berries on the mead, And fish the brook for trout.

He stirred his thoughts for ways to earn Some little gain; and hence, Contrived the silver pond to turn.

In part, to silver pence.

He found the lilies blooming there So spicy sweet to smell, And to the eye so pure and fair, He plucked them up to sell.

He could not to the market go: He had too young a head, The distant city's ways to know; The route he could not tread.

But, when the coming coach-wheels rolled To pa.s.s his humble cot, His bunch of lilies to be sold Was ready on the spot.

He'd stand beside the way, and hold His treasures up to show, That looked like yellow stars of gold Just set in leaves of snow.

"O buy my lilies!" he would say; "You'll find them new and sweet: So fresh from out the pond are they, I haven't dried my feet!"

And then he showed the dust that clung Upon his garment's hem, Where late the water-drops had hung, When he had gathered them.

And while the carriage checked its pace, To take the lilies in, His artless orphan tongue and face Some bright return would win.

For many a n.o.ble stranger's hand, With open purse, was seen, To cast a coin upon the sand, Or on the sloping green.

And many a smiling lady threw The child a silver piece; And thus, as fast as lilies grew, He saw his wealth increase.

While little more--and little more, Was gathered by their sale, His widowed mother's frugal store Would never wholly fail.

For He, who made, and feeds the bird, Her little children fed.

He knew her trust: her cry he heard; And answered it with bread.

And thus, protected by the Power, Who made the lily fair, Her orphans, like the meadow flower, Grew up in beauty there.

Her son, the good and prudent boy, Who wisely thus began, Was long the aged widow's joy; And lived an honored man.

He had a ship, for which he chose "The LILY" as a name, To keep in memory whence he rose, And how his fortune came.'

He had a lily carved, and set, Her emblem, on her stem; And she was called, by all she met, A beauteous ocean gem.

She bore sweet spices, treasures bright; And, on the waters wide, Her sails as lily-leaves were white: Her name was well applied.

Her feeling owner never spurned The presence of the poor; And found that all he gave returned In blessings rich and sure.

The G.o.d who by the lily-pond Had drawn his heart above, In after life preserved the bond Of grateful, holy love.

=The Humming-Bird's Anger=

"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent pa.s.sions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to pieces." BUFFON.

On light little wings as the humming-birds fly, With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky, Suspended in ether, they shine to the light As jewels of nature high-finished and bright.

Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall, Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.

The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so, Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know.

But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say, A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray!

And often the humming-bird's delicate breast Is found of a very high temper possessed.

Such essence of anger within it is pent, 'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent.