wonderfully well: they came to be so associated in my mind with the scenery amid which they were composed, and the mood which it rarely failed of inducing, that though they neither breathed the mood nor reflected the scenery, they always suggested both; on the principle, I suppose, that a pewter spoon, bearing the London stamp, suggested to a crew of poor weather-beaten sailors in one of the islands of the Pacific, their far-distant home and its enjoyments. One of the pieces suggested at this time I shall, however, venture on submitting to the reader. The few simple thoughts which it embodies arose in the solitary churchyard among the woods, beside the aged, lichen-incrusted dial-stone. ON SEEING A SUN-DIAL IN A CHURCHYARD Grey dial-stone, I fain would know What motive placed thee here, Where darkly opes the frequent grave, And rests the frequent bier. Ah! bootless creeps the dusky shade, Slow o'er thy figured plain: When mortal life has passed away, Time counts his hours in vain. As sweeps the clouds o'er ocean's breast, When shrieks the wintry wind. So doubtful thoughts, grey dial-stone, Come sweeping o'er my mind. I think of what could place thee here, Of those beneath thee laid, And ponder if thou wert not raised In mockery o'er the dead. Nay, man, when on life's stage they fret. May mock his fellow-men! In sooth, their soberest freaks afford Rare food for mockery then. But ah! when passed their brief sojourn-- When Heaven's dread doom is said-- Beats there the human heart could pour Like mockeries o'er the dead? The fiend unblest, who still to harm Directs his felon power, May ope the book of grace to him Whose day of grace is o'er; But never sure could mortal man, Whate'er his age or clime, Thus raise in mockery o'er the dead, The stone that measures time. Grey dial-stone, I fain would know What motive placed thee here, Where sadness heaves the frequent sigh, And drops the frequent tear. Like thy carved plain, grey dial-stone, Grief's weary mourners be: Dark sorrow metes out time to them-- Dark shade marks time on thee. I know it now: wert thou not placed To catch the eye of him To whom, through glistening tears, earth's gauds Worthless appear, and dim? We think of time when time has fled, The friend our tears deplore; The God whom pride-swollen hearts deny, Grief-humbled hearts adore. Grey stone, o'er thee the lazy night Passes untold away; Nor were it thine at noon to teach If failed the solar ray. In death's dark night, grey dial-stone, Cease all the works of men; In life, if Heaven withhold its aid, Bootless these works and vain.