Art thou a seraph from heaven, thou sweet pure moonlight! That thou comest in thy garb of dream-like and delicate beauty? Dost thou bear the splendor of the “Great White Throne” near which thou dost touch thy lute, dost thou bear it on thy glittering and pearly wings! Seraph! For thou dost change all to a white and wondrous lustre, Oh, Seraph! Seraph of the starry brow and snowy pinion, Brow of stars and pinion of snows. Oh, heavenly Seraph! oh, Seraph of wonderful beauty! Thou, thou, dost bear with thee the anthem of heaven, Seraph! Oh, Seraph! Seraph of wonderful beauty! And the anthem of heaven wakes echo on the bosom of earth. Seraph! Oh, Seraph! Seraph of wonderful beauty! The heavens are softly blue! It is thy eye, Seraph! That star glowing there like a gem from its mine, Is a part of thy brow, Seraph! and that white cloud is thy pinion, Seraph, thy beautiful pinion of snow. Oh, Seraph! sweet Seraph! bright Seraph of wonderful beauty! I point to thee upward from earth, I point to thee, Seraph! For I love to reflect thy glance, although I am only of earth. And I love to hymn thy praise, oh holy Seraph of moonlight! When the summer daylight has gone out like a flash in the crimsoning west, And the dew of evening falls softly on grass and flower. For then, oh, holy Seraph! I know thou wilt come and reign the queen of the scene. Farewell now, oh Seraph! oh Seraph that came from the skies, And will wing back thy flight when the morn Comes flashing again from the east! Farewell—farewell—farewell! Till the summer-night calls thee again! And again will I praise thee in song, Seraph! Sweet Seraph! Oh, Seraph of wonderful beauty! The music melted on my ear, but upward through the soft depths of the moonlit heaven soared a faint, throbbing star, and vanished at last in the middle ether. It was the sweet farewell to its “Seraph of wonderful beauty” of the praising and soaring steeple. * * * * * GENIUS. BY HELEN IRVING. In the sacred Hindoo Vega, is the sweet tradition found, That while the waste of waters yet girt the new earth round, Blooming out beneath the whisper of the great Almighty Power, On the gloomy flood there floated, one lonely lotus-flower. And within its crystal chalice, a frail, but heaven-blest shrine, Was placed a spirit gifted with creative power divine, Its celestial radiance making that lily-temple bright, And through its pure leaves shedding on the wave a halo-light.