The boundless ineffable prairie;
The splendour of mountain and lake
With their hues that seem ever to vary;
The mighty pine-forests which shake
In the wind, and in which the unwary
May tread on a snake;

And this wold with its heathery garment -
Are themes undeniably great.
But--although there is not any harm in't -
It's perhaps little good to dilate
On their charms to a dull little varmint
Of seven or eight.



ARCADES AMBO.



Why are ye wandering aye 'twixt porch and porch,
Thou and thy fellow--when the pale stars fade
At dawn, and when the glowworm lights her torch,
O Beadle of the Burlington Arcade?
--Who asketh why the Beautiful was made?
A wan cloud drifting o'er the waste of blue,
The thistledown that floats above the glade,
The lilac-blooms of April--fair to view,
And naught but fair are these; and such, I ween, are you.