Dim shadows these that come at Fancy's call-- Yet deeper scenes before the Patriot rise, As fate's stern prophet lifts the fearful pall, And shows the future to his straining eyes. Oh! shall that vision paint this glorious vale With happy millions o'er its bosom spread-- Or ghastly scenes where battle taints the gale With brother's blood by brother's weapon shed? Away, ye phantom fears--the scene is fair, Down the long vista of uncounted years; Bright harvests smile, sweet meadows scent the air, And peaceful plenty o'er the scene appears. The village rings with labor's jocund laugh, The hoyden shout around the school-house door, The old man's voice, as bending o'er his staff, He waxes valiant in the tales of yore: Far tapering spires from teeming cities rise, The sabbath bell comes stealing on the air, A holy anthem seeks the bending skies, And earth and heaven seem fondly blended there! Aye--and beyond, where distance spreads its blue, Down the unfolding vale of future time, A glorious vision rises on the view, And wakes the bosom with a hope sublime. Majestic Stream! at dim Creation's dawn, Thou wert a witness of that glorious birth-- And thy proud waters still shall sweep the lawn When Peace shall claim dominion of the earth. Here in this vale for mighty empire made, Perchance the glorious flag shall be unfurled, And violence and wrong and ruin fade, Before its conquering march around the world! [Footnote A: We are told by the Geographers that the Missouri, which rises in the glaciers of the Rocky Mountains, is properly the head stream of the Mississippi, and it is thus regarded in these lines. In this view, the Mississippi is the longest river in the world.] [Footnote B: Habakkuk iii. 3.] [Illustration: Vignette] The Two Windmills. [Illustration: The Two Windmills] Two neighbors, living on a hill, Had each--and side by side--a mill. The one was Jones,--a thrifty wight-- Whose mill in every wind went right. The storm and tempest vainly spent Their rage upon it--round it went! E'en when the summer breeze was light, The whirling wings performed their flight; And hence a village saying rose-- "As sure as Jones's mill, it goes." Not so with neighbor Smith's--close by; Full half the time it would not ply: Save only when the wind was west, Still as a post it stood at rest. By every tempest it was battered, By every thundergust 'twas shattered; Through many a rent the rain did filter; And, fair or foul, 'twas out of kilter; And thus the saying came at last-- "Smith's mill is made for folks that fast." Now, who can read this riddle right? Two mills are standing on a height-- One whirling brisk, whate'er the weather, The other, idle, weeks together!