While here and there, these laughing streams, Dimpling and eddying ever gay, Rippling o'er golden sand, that gleams Like the Golcondian diamond's ray, Leap headlong down a rocky dell, And o'er the heaven's ethereal azure Cast many a rainbow's glittering spell, That chains the heart in silent pleasure. And 'neath the heaven's o'erarching bow, Bloom laurels proud, and violets low, In fragrance sweet, and beauty rare, With graceful rose, and lily fair; The mirthful grape, and crocus glad, Yet here and there, geranium sad, With hawthorn, and ambrosia kind, And 'mongst them all is ivy twined. Amid these blooming spirit-lands, Mid chaplets wreathed by Love's own hands, The glowing flowers of Love are found With which his shining locks are crowned; He sings a song, through all the day long, Of joy, and of gladness, and glee, And he sits so light, on his throne so bright, Oh ever a conquering king is he! But when the sunset's golden dyes Have faded away from the western skies; And these fairy gardens are seen by night. Over their moonlit waters bright, On which, as they're merrily flowing and dancing, The light of the stars is twinkling and glancing, There's a charm in that silent midnight hour, They only can tell who have felt its power. There's a mystic spell in its silence sweet, And a magic thrill through all who meet, Where kindred thoughts together stray, Whispering beneath pale Luna's ray; Then is the time for poet's song, When his voice on the zephyr is borne along, And slumbering echo, like fairy fay, Murmurs the words of his wakening lay. But the rosy beams of the coming morn Tell us how fast the night has worn, How far and free the soul has strayed, Wandering 'mong scenes in fancy laid; And the heathcock's note, or the matin bell, As the morning breeze brings its pealing swell, Recalls the soul from its musings there, To find its "Castles"--built in air. [Illustration: C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap^{t.} S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph^{a.} WENONA'S LEAP. LAKE PEPIN, MISS. RIVER.] THE LOVER'S LEAP: OR, WENONA'S ROCK. BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN. Love, which "rules the court, the camp, the grove," is not without a share of influence in the wigwam. It is true that in a polished and refined society, woman is more likely to receive a just appreciation, than where the intellect of man is like the one talent rolled in a napkin, useless, because neglected and unimproved. In an enlightened country, woman is not considered as being only created to perform the household duties of a wife and mother. She is a companion, in the highest sense of the word. Her aim, like his, may be towards the great purposes of life.