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SMILES.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF CHIABRERA.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

WHEN a brook, or when a breeze,

Through the grass its path 's beguiling;

When a meadow decks its breast

With a blossom-sprinkled vest, -

Then we say the earth is smiling.

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When perchance the zephyrs dance

O'er the waves with slight commotion,

And the water on the shore

Scarcely turns a ripple o'er, - -

Full of smiles we call the ocean.

When, mid flowers red and white,

Dawn its thirst with dew is quaffing,

And it steals, on sapphire wheels,

Towards the dusky realms of night, -

Then we say that Heaven is laughing.

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