The Humble Home.

("L'glise est vaste et haute.")     [IV., June 29, 1839.]     The Church[1] is vast; its towering pride, its steeples loom on high;     The bristling stones with leaf and flower are sculptured wondrously;     The portal glows resplendent with its "rose,"     And 'neath the vault immense at evening swarm     Figures of angel, saint, or demon's form,     As oft a fearful world our dreams disclose.     But not the huge Cathedral's height, nor yet its vault sublime,     Nor porch, nor glass, nor streaks of light, nor shadows deep with time;     Nor massy towers, that fascinate mine eyes;     No, 'tis that spot - the mind's tranquillity -     Chamber wherefrom the song mounts cheerily,     Placed like a joyful nest well nigh the skies.     Yea! glorious is the Church, I ween, but Meekness dwelleth here;     Less do I love the lofty oak than mossy nest it bear;     More dear is meadow breath than stormy wind:     And when my mind for meditation's meant,     The seaweed is preferred to the shore's extent, -     The swallow to the main it leaves behind.     Author of "Critical Essays."