LIFE'S HARVEST-FIELD. When morning wakes the earth from sleep, With soft and kindling ray, We rise, Life's harvest-field to reap, "Tis ripening day by day. To reap, sometimes with joyful heart, Anon with tearful eye We see the Spoiler hath a part, We reap with smile and sigh. Full oft the tares obstruct our way; Full oft we feel the thorn; Our hearts grow faint- we weep, we prayThen hope is newly born. Hope that at last we all shall come, Though rough the way and long; Back to our Father's house, our home, And bring our sheaves with song, A. D. WOODBRIDGE. MISS WOODBRIDGE was born in Penobscot County, but in what year, or town we have found it impossible to ascertain. She is included in Read's Female Poets of America, and also in the American Female Poets, by Caroline May, the latter, only, giving a biographical sketch, from which, however, we can gain no definite information. Her parents resided at Stockbridge, Mass., where she spent the larger portion of her youthful days. She first became known as a poetess by her simple poems, contributed to Mrs. Child's Juvenile Miscellany, and other religious journals. In 1847, an elegant, illustrated volume, entitled 'The Rainbow,' was published in Albany and New York, and edited by A. J. McDonald, Esq., to which she contributed several poems of equal merit to the others which it contained. The design of this work was to suppose the different States of the Union to be flower gardens, and from each, contributions to the work were received, thus forming a national bouquet of the flowers of literature. Miss Woodbridge, associated with the Hon. Beverly Tucker, Henry T. Tuckerman, Rev. Dr. Sprague, Alfred B. Street, and others, represented the State of New York, although she should, more properly, have represented her native State, which, on that occasion, found poor representatives in two nom de plume contributors of but little merit. She also for several years contributed to the most popular Annuals then published, but few of which are now in existence. For ten years she was connected with the Albany Female Academy, as a teacher, and while there she won the love and warmest friendship of her associates, and the esteem of all who knew her, by her purity of character, kindness of disposition, and superior talent. In 1846, she finished her engagements at this school, and removed to Brooklyn, New York, and became connected with the Brooklyn Female Seminary, a new institution, which was opened during that year. On the occasion of the dedication of this Seminary she wrote the following poem : If in yon glorious arch on high Another star should purely shine, How would we gaze with wond'ring eye! The penitent from contrite prayer; That star hath risen! Even now Its first faint beam salutes the earth,— Oh! bless the hour that gave it birth! Long may it shine with steady ray; Long gild these 'heights' with purest beam; Star of our hopes, still cheer our way, Until we wake from Life's long dream. How long she remained at this Seminary, we cannot learn, or whether she is still connected with it. In her private character, and also in her literary productions she reminds us very much of that gifted young lady, Miss Lucy Hooper, whose early death was so deeply lamented by all who knew her, or were familiar with her writings. Miss Woodbridge, to a large extent, possesses the same gentleness of disposition, purity of heart, and winning manner, which made this lady so much beloved. Her writings are characterized by a deep religious purity and earnestness, and are not without their proper share of merit. LIFE'S LIGHT AND SHADE. How strangely, in this life of ours, Light falls amid the darkest shade! How soon the thorn is hid by flowers! And yield the spirit to her spell. How oft when Love is like a bird Whose weary wing sweeps o'er the sea, Thus, when this heart is sad and lone, As Memory wakes her dirge-like hymn, When Hope on heavenward wing has flown, And earth seems wrapped in shadows dim; O! then a word, a glance, a smile, A simple flower, a childhood's glee, Will each sad thought, each care beguile, Till joy's bright fountain gushes free. To-day, its waters softly stirred, For Peace was nigh, that gentle dove! And sweet as song of forest-bird, Came the low voice of one I love; And flowers, the smile of Heaven,' were mine, They seemed to whisper Why so sad? Of love we are the seal and sign, Thus ever in the steps of grief Are seen the precious seeds of joy, Each fount of Marah' hath a 'leaf,' Whose healing balm we may employ. Then 'midst Life's fitful fleeting day, Look up! the sky is bright above; Kind voices cheer thee on thy way, Faint spirit! trust the God of Love! |