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Hottic Heoeries. 
 
POETIC REVERIES. 
 
 BY A LADY. 
 
 bttt never let me live 
 
 With birds in gilded cage 
 With flowers whose treasures oive 
 
 No leaf from NATtTRE'S PAGE. 
 
 BALTIMORE: 
 FIELDING LUCAS, J] 
 
 I9fli^ ^ 
 

 Entered, according to the act of Congress, in the year 1843, 
 
 BT FIELDING LUCAS, JR. 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Maryland. 
 
 PRINTTED BY JOHK D. TOT. 
 

 d 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 Page. 
 
 Stanzas, 5 
 
 Ohio River, • 8 
 
 There are Roses in the Desert, 12 
 
 The Stranger's Grave, 14 
 
 I sat with Thee, . .' 16 
 
 Thou art mine own, 20 
 
 A Dream, 22 
 
 The Eng-lish Girl to her Italian Lover, 24 
 
 Thou art Gone, 26 
 
 I sec them in my Nightly Dream, 2S 
 
 Grenough's Medora, 31 
 
 Thou art gone, and no voice in thy loved tone sings, . . . .33 
 
 Imitation of , 34 
 
 The Seducer, 36 
 
 A Farewell, . . . . ; 38 
 
 I Listen for thy Footstep, 40 
 
 To Laura M , : 42 
 
 Thou wilt think of me, 43 
 
 Oh blame me not, 45 
 
 To , 47 
 
 A Thought in the Deep Wood, 49 
 
 Gather Wild Flowers for me, 50 
 
 Leaves, 52 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Tliy smile I will pass coldly by, 54 
 
 Love's lost Star, 65 
 
 And \vc must meet as Strangers «ow, 57 
 
 Thy Sister I will be, 59 
 
 The Christian Mother, 61 
 
 My Bouquet, 63 
 
 The Wild Rose, 65 
 
 Morning- — on the first of June, 66 
 
 Ah Linger not, 68 
 
 I go where Darkness and Sorrow brood, ._ 70 
 
 When o'er the gloomy Past, 7"2 
 
 She was weeping, 74 
 
 Summer, 76 
 
 Autumn — Indian Summer — Winter, 78 
 
 I cannot Dance to-night, 82 
 
 I saw Thee, 84 
 
 Mary B. at a Ball, 86 
 
 You'll not Forget, 88 
 
 Music, 90 
 
 Music, 93 
 
 Midnight on the Waters, 95 
 
 The Daughter's Lament, • 98 
 
 Thy Will be done, 100 
 
 The Spring-time of the Year is come, 102 
 
 My First Sorrow, 104 
 
 Let the Remembrance, 106 
 
 The Ever- green and the Withered Flowers, 108 
 
 The Home of my Childhood, Ill 
 
 Laurel Mountain — covered with Snow, 113 
 
 Night, 115 
 
 lam Thine, 117 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 Page. 
 
 Hudson River, 119 
 
 The Storm-King, 122 
 
 The Departed, 125 
 
 O, Thou whose balance does the Mountains weigh, .... 127 
 
 A Summer's Day, • . . . 129 
 
 The Mermaid, 131 
 
 Here are the ruined Walls, 133 
 
 Night, 135 
 
 The Indian Maid, 137 
 
 The Star seen at Mid-day, 1843, 141 
 
 Why look so coldly, 143 
 
 And the green leaves flutter above my head, 145 
 
 To Miss , 146 
 
 Tears, 147 
 
 The Star Snow, 148 
 
 The Forest Flower, 149 
 
 They are passing away, 150 
 
 A Spring Day after a Shower, 151 
 
 Quiet and deep as the waveless sea, 153 
 
 Ye little simple Flowers, 155 
 
 Answer to a Serenade interrupted by a Shower, 157 
 
 The Spirit of Kaatskill to the Spirit of the Meadows, .... 158 
 
 The Spirit of the Meadows to the Spirit of Kaatskill, .... 162 
 
 Christmas, 164 
 
 We Meet Again, 165 
 
 Shadows steal around us, 167 
 
 O Come not near, 169 
 
 The Diamond, 170 
 
POETIC EEVEEIES. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 A YOUNG sweet flower just fainting lay. 
 
 Upon the withering grass. 
 And summer winds had gone away, 
 
 A pleasant hour to pass. 
 Beside a gHttering stream they loved. 
 
 And often rested near. 
 To catch the bright refreshing drops 
 
 From waves so blue and clear. 
 
 And butterflies with plumage bright 
 
 Went fluttering on their way. 
 And would not linger in their flight. 
 
 Or stop their heedless play. 
 To give the poor forgotten flower. 
 
 One wavelet of their wing 
 To fan it into life again. 
 
 Or shade across it fling. 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 The soft air whispered to the stream. 
 
 The waves low answering, said. 
 In murmuring sounds, as if a dream. 
 
 Were hngering o'er its bed, 
 I pity yonder fading flower. 
 
 It cannot sing or play, 
 Or fly across that barren heath. 
 
 Or near my green banks stay. 
 
 A brilliant bird was resting near. 
 
 And heard the mournful tale. 
 And in a voice of timid fear. 
 
 As if his hope might fail ; 
 He hastened to the flowing waves. 
 
 And asked with pitying eye. 
 If he might bathe his ready wing. 
 
 And to the floweret hie, , 
 
 To scatter o'er its drooping head. 
 
 Those sparkling drops of dew, 
 And on its dry and scorching bed. 
 
 Its Uttle Ufe renew. 
 The stream with gentle tears bedewed 
 
 That fond bird's brilliant wings. 
 And as he flew with softened tones. 
 
 His merry song begins. 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 And then the lazy winds were stirred. 
 
 And rose with louder voice. 
 To tell that kind and loving bird. 
 
 The folly of his choice. 
 But chill winds could not harm it now 
 
 That sweet and tender flower. 
 It breathed again its purer Ufe, . 
 
 As in its native bower. 
 
 The bird brought to that rippling wave, 
 
 A breath so pure and fair. 
 As angels bright had come to lave. 
 
 And kindly rested there. 
 It was the grateful incense given 
 
 By all the sweetest flowers. 
 To that young bird and gentle stream. 
 
 In summer's blooming hours. 
 
OHIO RIVEPv: 
 
 CALLED BY THE FRENCH SETTLERS 'BELLE RIVIERE.' 
 
 Beautiful river! o'er thy glassy waves. 
 
 Our rapid boat is riding gaily on. 
 And passing by the Indians' mouldering graves, 
 
 As ii" a race for life were nearly won. 
 Yes, death upon thy now deserted shores. 
 
 And hurrying life upon thy gentle stream; 
 Above, the chieftain's spirit mournful soars. 
 
 Around me spreads the influence of a dream. 
 There through that bright and ever changing wood. 
 
 The hunter roamed without a worldly care. 
 His toil a pleasure, and his daily food 
 
 Such viands as a courtly taste might share. 
 The wild unpampered meats the forest yields. 
 
 Refined and nurtured by the simple wave. 
 Partaken in the wide and pleasant fields. 
 
 Or by the breezy shore and sheltered cave. 
 
OHIO RIVER. 5 
 
 Beautiful river ! tho' no voice can tell 
 
 Of thy lost pleasures, yet upon thy shore. 
 Deep traces of the past I see too well. 
 
 Although thy smiling face is as of yore. 
 Upon it beamed the eyes of warriors bold 
 
 As shyly glanced the maiden, nature's child. 
 Within its mirrored beauty, to behold 
 
 Her long dark hair adorned with flowers wild ; 
 And smiling though thou seemest, beneath thy wave 
 
 Lies many a hero in his gorgeous belt. 
 And many a lover in his mossy grave. 
 
 Whose hearts have throbbed with all that ours have felt, 
 The forests bent to thee, and thou didst take 
 
 Their image to thy bosom, where the wave 
 With playful winds, would twine their stems and make 
 
 A bower of leaves, that sporting softly, lave. 
 In sweet companionship with sunbeams gay. 
 
 And when the day to gende night returned. 
 Still didst thou linger with the moon's pale ray 
 
 And with the holy stars that o'er thee burned. 
 
 We call him savage in whose thoughtful mind. 
 There deeply dwelt the love and fear of God, 
 
 Who heard his voice upon the stormy wind. 
 And saw his glory in the heavens abroad ; 
 
 How many who despise the Indians' simple creed. 
 Walk reckless through the trials of the earth. 
 
10 OHIO RIVER. 
 
 Whose deadened souls to nature's voice unheed. 
 
 To whom her hfe is an insipid dearth. 
 
 ^ # # * # 
 
 Beautiful river ! where the wild deer laved 
 
 Their graceful forms and made their shady beds, 
 Beneath the spreading oak whose branches waved 
 
 A pleasant odor o'er their antlered heads. 
 While glancing sofdy with their lustrous eyes 
 
 Upon the pleasant scenes that round them lay, 
 They listened to the songs that gently rise 
 
 Upon the breeze, too happy even to play ; 
 Now driven from their green and silent haunts. 
 
 And far from home they wander slowly on. 
 But longing for the bright and sparkling founts. 
 
 They sink at last to earth, and die alone; 
 Where roamed the Indian, now the white man dwells. 
 
 Where stood the branching oak, a scanty shed. 
 And high the weary wanderer's bosom swells 
 
 To see his roof-tree o'er a stranger's head. 
 His lather's and his chieftain's honored bones 
 
 Fast blanching on the dry and sandy shore. 
 While through his native wood, the pleasant tones 
 
 Of merry children now resound no more; 
 The white man's stealthy step and gentle smiles. 
 
 With proffered friendship held the poisoned bowl. 
 His learned arts and ever cautious wiles. 
 
 For earthly treasure bartered even his soul; 
 
OHIO RIVER. 11 
 
 He came from christian lands to pledge in sin 
 
 The fiery draught that burns within the brain. 
 And for a space how brief, those lands to win. 
 
 By losing all his hope of righteous gain. 
 Why came he not with words of holy hope. 
 
 To soothe the warrior to a quiet grave. 
 And by earth's beauty and the heavens' scope 
 
 Proclaim His goodness there who died to save. 
 
THERE ARE ROSES IN THE DESERT. 
 
 There are roses in the desert. 
 Wild flowers blooming there. 
 
 Soft odors steal to heaven. 
 And fill the breathing air. 
 
 There is music on the waters, 
 When no human voice is nigh. 
 
 As summer waves are playing 
 With the low wind's gentle sigh. 
 
 There is a softened glory- 
 In that lone and brilliant star. 
 
 Its brightness seems too holy. 
 In the deep blue heaven afar. 
 
 There is a speaking sadness, 
 
 A soul within that sigh. 
 That tells of earthly sorrow. 
 
 When the lone and lovely die. 
 
ROSES IN THE DESERT. 13 
 
 Thus in my bosom dwelleth 
 
 An image sweet to me. 
 In dreams and nightly visions 
 
 My soul wakes but for thee. 
 
 As roses in the desert. 
 
 As soft winds on the sea. 
 As stars gleam in the heaven. 
 
 So art thou, love, to me. 
 
THE STRANGER'S GRAVE. 
 
 On the wild sea shore, where the billows break. 
 
 And rush o'er the foaming sand. 
 Where the sea-birds wail, and nightly wake 
 
 Their chaunt to the distant land. 
 
 There sleeps the stranger, and on his grave 
 
 No soft falling tears are shed. 
 But the hoarse winds sigh, and the dark pines wave 
 
 Their requiem around his head. 
 
 Yet calmly he sleeps, tho' a foreign land 
 Has thrown her cold shroud around him. 
 
 In her bosom he rests, and a kindly hand 
 From life's dark ties hath unbound him. 
 
 He is gone from the peril, the strife and toil. 
 From the burning of hearts forsaken, 
 
 Ere the wing of hope had caught earth's soil 
 Or the dream of love could waken. 
 
THE STRANGERS GRAVE. 15 
 
 He will not mourn o'er the changed brow. 
 
 Nor the pang of the bitter word. 
 No deathly scourge awaits him now, 
 
 The fire nor the flaming sword. 
 
 We weep for him yet, and our hallowed tears 
 
 Will lighten the gloom of his grave. 
 As the breath of the night wind softly bears 
 
 The moan of that lonely wave. 
 
I SAT WITH THEE. 
 
 'To te with them is far less sweet than to rememher thee: 
 
 Moore. 
 
 I SAT with thee, beneath the shade. 
 
 By clustering leaves and dark vines made, 
 
 A streamlet wandered Hghtly by. 
 
 As o'er it breathed the forest's sigh. 
 
 And scattering rainbow drops around. 
 
 Murmured a low and cheerful sound. 
 
 The gay birds sprang from tree to tree. 
 
 And wildly sang their melody. 
 
 Light summer clouds went floating by 
 
 And softly veiled the radiant sky. 
 
 Whose mellowed tints with earth's deep green. 
 
 And softened drapery between. 
 
 Seemed lent to shade from mortal eyes 
 
 The glorious beauty of those skies; 
 
 And timid songsters came to greet. 
 
 With voices warbling low and sweet. 
 
 As through that young and leafy bower. 
 
 Their bright wings glowed like some gay flower. 
 
I SAT WITH THEE. 17 
 
 And soft eyes watched that shehered spot 
 By all the busy world forgot. 
 There first thy whispered voice I heard. 
 And loved thee for that gende word. 
 
 now that voice I cannot hear, 
 
 1 wander on, thou art not there! 
 
 I watched with thee, the waters bright. 
 As darting on, in gay delight. 
 And sporting in its sunny glow. 
 The bright fish wreathed its golden floAv, 
 And other eyes than mine were there. 
 To see thy love's too jealous care; 
 We rested on the grassy hill. 
 And all around us seemed as still 
 As if the voices nature gave. 
 Were hushed upon that quiet wave : 
 I roamed the wild-wood path with thee. 
 The setting sun's bright flood to see, 
 And as the glory spread around. 
 There seemed to breathe a murmuring sound, 
 "Thy pleasure even tho' fair it seem. 
 Is but for thee, a mournful dream;" 
 I wandered in that path again. 
 My brow was wreathed with flowers in vain, 
 I thought of thee! each thought was care, 
 I gazed around, thou wert not there! 
 I walked with thee, by soft moonlight. 
 As earth reposed in glorious night, 
 3 
 
18 I SAT WITH THEE. 
 
 The birds were sunk in dreamless rest, 
 The wood's dark mantle o'er their nest. 
 And flowers soft closed their weary eyes. 
 As evening paled their brilliant dyes. 
 And while the waves went dancing by 
 With diamonds borrowed from the sky. 
 And none save thou and I were near. 
 To watch those glittering waters clear, 
 I leaned on thy protecting arm. 
 And near thy heart with kind love warm. 
 And gazed within thy tender eyes. 
 Nor thought of other human ties : 
 There was no sorrow and no sin. 
 Life had no gnawing care within. 
 And sickness had not left a trace. 
 In this fair world, nor robbed a grace. 
 For thoughtless time had now ibrgot. 
 To breathe upon this lovely spot. 
 And all so brightly smiled around. 
 There could no grief or pain be found: 
 I wake, and for thee breathe a prayer, 
 I wander on, thou art not there! 
 I met thee in the lighted hall. 
 And many voices on thee call 
 To join with them the merry dance. 
 Or rest on theirs thy treasuretl glance. 
 Thou turned'st from all, to look on me, 
 'Mid the gay dance and revelry. 
 
I SAT WITH THEE. 19 
 
 I sung to thee that tender song,. 
 Thou heardst but me amid the throng. 
 That time is past and thou art gone, — 
 And now I sit and muse, alone. 
 Within the cold and sullen gloom 
 Of that once gayly pictured room; 
 I thought thy cherished smile to share, 
 I looked for thee! thou wert not there! 
 I wander through those scenes again. 
 My heart's remembrance is but pain. 
 
THOU ART MINE OWN. 
 
 Come lay thy head upon my breast. 
 
 Thou shalt not grieve alone. 
 And I will soothe thee into rest 
 
 My own beloved one. 
 
 I've toiled for thee in distant lands. 
 
 And crossed the stormy sea, 
 I've wandered over burning sands, 
 
 My dearest one, for thee! 
 
 Thou shalt not weep thy soft eyes dim. 
 
 While I am by thy side. 
 Tell thy heart's sorrow unto him 
 
 Who loves thee as life's tide. 
 
 My youth's most treasured thought was thine. 
 
 This heart was warm and true. 
 Around it nov/ thy graces twine. 
 
 With pleasures ever new. 
 
THOU ART MINE OWN. 
 
 I would not let a shadow rest 
 Upon thy thoughtful brow, 
 
 I could not love thee, dearest, best. 
 More than I love thee now. 
 
 I fear that sickness or distress 
 May cloud thy tender heart, 
 
 I pray for thee that hope may bless. 
 Nor ever from thee part. 
 
 I could not leave my cherished dove 
 
 To bear this bitter strife. 
 For none could feel my tender love 
 
 That lives but in her hfe. 
 
 I could not live without thee, love. 
 
 Nor would I die alone. 
 My prayer shall be to heaven above. 
 
 That we may tlien be one. 
 
 21 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 1 AM dreaming of sweet flowers. 
 Of music and soft hours. 
 
 When those I loved were near; 
 1 see their smiUng faces. 
 And watch the furrowed traces 
 
 Of many a bitter tear. 
 
 They speak in gentle voices, 
 O! how my soul rejoices 
 
 Those long-lost sounds to hear. 
 And even while I listen. 
 Their fond eyes kindly glisten. 
 
 Their footsteps hasten near. 
 
 They pluck for me wild roses, 
 As soft my form reposes. 
 
 And there is not a thorn; 
 And as the moonbeams brighten 
 Their smiles so gently lighten. 
 
 And those loved lips adorn. 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 They fade now as they Unger, 
 And point with shadowy finger. 
 
 Ah! what is it I fear; 
 I have indeed been dreaming, 
 Those fond eyes were not beaming. 
 
 Those voices were not near. 
 
 I wake to earth and sorrow. 
 No joy comes with the morrow, 
 
 I fear the light of day; 
 Oh, if this be but dreaming. 
 And hope and love but seeming. 
 
 Away false dreams, away ! 
 
 23 
 
THE ENGLISH GIRL TO HER ITALIAN LOVER. 
 
 I HEAR thee speak, I feel thee sigh, 
 
 1 gaze upon that beaming eye. 
 
 Too fondly gaze, and dearly hold 
 
 Thine image in my heart's deep fold, 
 
 I look upon that softened smile 
 
 So full of love's bewitching guile. 
 
 And while I rest my eyes on thine. 
 
 Forget to think, thou art not mine ; 
 
 Oh dos't thou love me! speak again 
 
 Those tender words though breathed in vain, 
 
 I cannot live without them now, 
 
 I dare not think upon thy vow. 
 
 And if thou turn'st thy heart away, 
 
 I cannot, in my anguish, pray ; 
 
 Lost wanderers on a stormy sea. 
 
 Look not for land as I for thee; 
 
 Life has no charm, and hope no dream. 
 
 Unless on me thy soft eyes beam ; 
 
THE ENGLISH GIRL TO HER ITALIAN LOVER. 25 
 
 Why didst thou tell me of thy love. 
 And all my treasured thoughts remove, 
 Hope of a purer world than this. 
 Dreams of a future hfe of bliss. 
 Where anguish comes not, nor the tear 
 For love unholy, nor the fear 
 Of sin and sorrow and false joy. 
 Where life is love, and love no toy ; 
 Give me the peace I pray for here. 
 And leave me not to thoughts of care! 
 But no! I wildly, blindly rave. 
 Leave me to sorrow and the grave, 
 I would not, that thy heart should feel 
 One pang, my thoughtless words reveal; 
 I call them back, and for thee pray. 
 Thou must not linger, canst not stay, 
 Tn thy bright smile I may forget 
 The holier hopes that haunt me yet; 
 Then let us look one last farewell. 
 Breathe once my name, it hath a spell, 
 When spoken by thy pailed lips. 
 As sweet as when the wild swan dips 
 Within the wave, its snowy wings. 
 And gently dying, sweetly sings. 
 
THOU ART GONE. 
 
 A FORM has passed away from earth, 
 
 As if a ray of light 
 Had left the heaven of its birth. 
 
 And sunk to gloomy night. 
 
 Amid the crowded paths of men. 
 
 Amongst the bright and gay. 
 That form was loved and cherished then. 
 
 And full of life as they. 
 
 We miss the glance that on us beamed 
 
 With deep expressive glow. 
 We miss the voice whose accents seemed 
 
 From purest thoughts to flow. 
 
 The dream of life is passed and gone, 
 
 Its pains and pleasures o'er. 
 With hope and love forever done, 
 
 That heart can beat no more. 
 
THOU ART GONE. 27 
 
 Oh il" this sinful life would last. 
 
 The boon I would not crave. 
 Grief dwells upon the gloomy past. 
 
 Lost pleasures fill its grave. 
 
I SEE THEM IN MY NIGHTLY DREAM. 
 
 I SEE them in ray nightly dream. 
 
 They gaze so silently. 
 And oh so still and pale they seem. 
 
 Nor will they smile on me! 
 
 Thou lost one, is it that my soul 
 
 Does not so purely rest. 
 That worldly thoughts will oft control 
 
 The hope within my breast. 
 
 I would not see thy loving face 
 
 Turned sternly on me now, 
 I would not yet a shadow trace 
 
 Upon thy death-cold brow. 
 
 Look, for thou must an angel be. 
 
 If mortal hope can soar 
 To those bright worlds; oh look on me. 
 
 And mother, smile once more! 
 
I SEE THEM IN MY NIGHTLY DREAM. 29 
 
 Thou never saidst that I was cold. 
 
 Or thoughtless of thy peace. 
 Within my deep heart's inmost fold. 
 
 That love can never cease. 
 
 I think my heart is harder now. 
 
 The world seems darker too, 
 I cannot breathe my heavenly vow. 
 
 As once I loved to do. 
 
 It is because, I miss thee, mother. 
 
 Soft tears I could not shed. 
 Nor could I pray, there was no other 
 
 To soothe my aching head. 
 
 They knew not how my heart was twined 
 
 Around thy aged form. 
 How sickness, sorrow, only shrined 
 
 Thine image from life's storm. 
 
 Thou saidst I was thy dearest friend, 
 
 A child devoted, true. 
 Who came to soothe, and o'er thee bend, 
 
 With kindness ever new. 
 
 How could I dream that thou wert cold. 
 
 To one so truly proved. 
 How can I shrink, when I behold 
 
 That form so deeply loved. 
 4 
 
30 I SEE THEM IN MY NIGHTLY DREAM. 
 
 I'll pray that Heaven may kindly hear 
 
 The earnest vow I'll pay. 
 The silent stars shall watch my prayer. 
 
 With their pure fadeless ray. 
 
GRENOUGH'S MEDORA. 
 
 How coldly beautiful she lies. 
 Closed are those dove-like eyes. 
 And clasped within that hand 
 The flowers, with love's firm band. 
 No spell can wile those buds away. 
 Nor careless hands shall dare to stray 
 Among those pale, but cherished flowers. 
 Whose odor breathed on love's lone hours : 
 Death kindly hides beneath that smile. 
 The anguished lite that gleamed awhile. 
 And none can look upon that face. 
 And feel not nature's dreamless grace. 
 Those lips of beauty — and that brow 
 Which angels watch in pity now. 
 In life so pure, in death so fair. 
 No earthly stain could linger there. 
 She gazed upon the treacherous sea 
 For love's lost sail — and oh how free 
 The dashing billows rushed to meet 
 The loved one, she so longed to greet, 
 
32 GRfiNOUGH'S MEDORA. 
 
 Then slowly rolled toAvards the shore. 
 As murmuring low, — he comes no more! 
 Each morning brought its trem.bling joy. 
 That evening came, but to destroy. 
 And deep within her dying heart 
 Love's daily torturing thought — we part ! 
 To her, he comes no more — and gone 
 The hope, the life, that love lived on; 
 Soul of his soul, heart of his heart. 
 Lost in his being — naught, apart. 
 To death she sunk, there was no light 
 On earth, in heaven, but in his sight ; 
 No loving hand to save, she sank 
 To marble coldness and death's blank. 
 Earth hides her not, she lives again. 
 And bleeding hearts weep not in vain. 
 Love saved her from its earthly doom 
 To live within this deathless tomb, 
 Medora's self and Conrad's own 
 Whom mortal grief hath turned to stone. 
 
THOU ART GONE. AND NO VOICE IN THY LOVED TONE SINGS. 
 
 I AM weary, weary. 
 
 Sad silent tears I shed. 
 The world looks dark and dreary. 
 
 And hope and love are fled. 
 
 I am weary, weary. 
 
 My heart is growing cold. 
 The smiles that used to cheer me 
 
 I now no more behold. 
 
 I am weary, weary, 
 
 I watch and grieve alone. 
 And those who once were near me 
 
 Are now forever gone. 
 
 I am weary, weary. 
 
 Grief gnaws into my heart. 
 Because I weep, they fear me. 
 
 And cruelly depart. 
 
IMITATION OF 
 
 To prayer! to prayer! that man must rue 
 Who will not to himself be true. 
 Who lives along from day to day 
 And never for his soul will pray, 
 Whose time is taken up with care 
 To live and get, and who will dare 
 To rise at morn, lie down at night. 
 Without one ray of heavenly light. 
 The fair sun shines for him in vain. 
 The starry sky soothes not his pain, 
 The flowery earth, the glorious sea, 
 Might even for him, as well not be; 
 The glory gone, the beauty lost 
 Which mortal hand with toil and cost 
 Can make nor mar, for never trod 
 That human foot on work of God, 
 That air and sunshine could not bring. 
 With blessing from on high, to spring 
 With life renewed and raised head. 
 From crushing power of sinners' tread. 
 
IMITATION. 35 
 
 O the fair beauty of this earth 
 How upon minds of heavenly birth. 
 Its glory comes! — the rising sun. 
 The murmuring streams that softly run. 
 The moon, the stars, the gorgeous sky. 
 The clouds that float or swiftly fly. 
 The ocean which with gentle breast 
 Seems but to cradle infants' rest. 
 Yet lashed to fury by his word. 
 Is like to his avenging sword. 
 Flaming in sunlight, dashing high, 
 Qr darkening, when night's shadows lie 
 Upon its gleaming face, and deep 
 The shadow on the souls that sleep 
 Beneath the wave, who could not find 
 God's glory in the storm, or wind ; 
 Such see not even the beauteous flowers. 
 Nor glad are they for gritteful showers. 
 Save that to them they pleasure bring j 
 They listen when the fair birds sing. 
 But think not, who their tiny throats 
 Has formed with such melodious notes. 
 And coldly hearken while they pour 
 To him the song, who taught to soar 
 Their little wings, and gave them voice 
 To sing his praises and rejoice. 
 
THE SEDUCER. 
 
 Smile no more, thou poor deceiver; 
 
 Smile no more! 
 Thou can'st not now of peace bereave her 
 
 Or faith restore. 
 
 Sigh no more, thou can'st not pain her. 
 
 Sigh no more! 
 Not winds that breathe on rocks are vainer. 
 
 Or Sybil's lore! 
 
 Speak no more, the spell is broken. 
 
 Speak no more! 
 Thy tender words, thy perished token, 
 
 She cannot store. 
 
 Gaze no more, or now behold her. 
 
 Gaze no more! 
 Not even the sunless wave is colder. 
 
 On desert shore! 
 
THE SEDUCER. 37 
 
 Yet, once more, look, the chords are riven. 
 
 Yet once more! 
 Thy falsehood sent that soul to heaven. 
 
 Yet now deplore. 
 
 Yet, once more, breathe thy gentle sigh, 
 
 Yet once more! 
 And gaze on that once beaming eye. 
 
 And now adore. 
 
 Yet, once more, let thy soft hand rest. 
 
 Yet once more! 
 Upon that brow and marbled breast. 
 
 As oft before. 
 
 Yet, once more, look upon that face, 
 
 Yet once more! 
 And feel its cold and vanished grace 
 
 In thy heart's core. 
 
A FAREV7-ELL. 
 
 'Tis but a dream, and thou must wake 
 From love's too dangerous spell, 
 
 Nor look again, nor sadly take 
 A fond and last farewell. 
 
 When all thy tenderness I view. 
 And think thy kindness o'er, 
 
 I know that thou art firm and true. 
 Yet we must meet no more. 
 
 O I could weep to see thee mourn. 
 Thy sadness wrings my soul. 
 
 But better from thy bosom torn, 
 Tho' years in sorrow roll. 
 
 Forget the past, cling now no more 
 To dreams so false and vain. 
 
 Give not thy souPs best treasure o'er. 
 To feed this bitter pain. 
 
A FAREWELL. 39 
 
 Farewell ! and yet thou lingerest near. 
 
 And wilt not from me part. 
 Ah! what is left, when thou so dear. 
 
 Art riven from my heart! 
 
 Think not again of one whose fate 
 
 Has dimmed thy bright pathway. 
 And tho' thou leav'st me desolate, 
 
 I will not bid thee stay. 
 
 Farewell! thy love comes o'er my heart 
 
 Where grief and anguish dwell. 
 Thou know'st we must forever part. 
 
 Oh then farewell! farewell! 
 
I LISTEN FOR THY FOOTSTEP. 
 
 I LISTEN for thy footstep, 
 
 hasten unto me. 
 Ere daylight dies in glory 
 
 Upon the distant sea. 
 
 I Usten for thy glad tones, 
 
 1 watch and wait for thee. 
 
 No voice speaks where thou art not. 
 No music wakes for me. 
 
 The sounds that seemed so pleasant 
 When thou my love wert near. 
 
 Are now of grief the echoes. 
 The accents of my fear. 
 
 Why, why so long delaying. 
 Soft twilight hours are gone. 
 
 And stars are kindly gazing 
 Upon the weary one. 
 
I LISTEN FOR THY FOOTSTEP. 41 
 
 I know that thou art true love. 
 
 It is for thee I fear. 
 The darkness and the night-gloom 
 
 Are nought when thou art near. 
 
 He comes! I hear his footstep. 
 
 His song is on the breeze. 
 His hurried walk, his glad tone. 
 
 The rustling of the trees. 
 
 And now I see his bright glance. 
 
 Thou lookest on thine own 
 Once more thou com'st to gladden. 
 
 And I am not alone. 
 
 I listened for thy footstep, 
 
 I watched and prayed for thee. 
 Come to my heart thou dear one. 
 
 And cling now unto me. 
 
TO LAUP.A M 
 
 There are no jewels on thy liand. 
 No gems are glittering there, 
 
 Nor even a gay and flowery band 
 Entwines thy raven hair. 
 
 Thine ornaments are brighter far, 
 
 Than gems or roses give. 
 Their brilliance would that lustre mar. 
 
 Which in thy virtues live. 
 
THOU Y/ILT THINK OF ME. 
 
 Yes, thou wilt think of me 
 When morning beams. 
 
 Ere the bright day shall be. 
 Or sunlight gleams. 
 
 Then, thou wilt think of me, 
 
 And when the light 
 Fades on the distant sea, 
 
 To rayless night. 
 
 Wilt thou not think of me. 
 When pleasure seems 
 
 From gay bright hours to flee 
 And sink to dreams ? 
 
 Yes, thou wilt think of me 
 
 With fond belief. 
 When thy heart speaks to thee. 
 
 In hope or grief 
 
44 THOU WILT THINK OF ME. 
 
 I know thou'lt think of me. 
 When those bright eyes 
 
 Tell thy love silently, 
 To softer skies. 
 
 Yes, thou wilt think of me. 
 When morning beams. 
 
 Ere the bright day shall be, 
 Or sunlight gleams. 
 
OH BLAME ME NOT, 
 
 Oh blame me not if thoughts of thee 
 
 Press on my wearied heart. 
 If by thy side the soft hours flee 
 
 And sorrows soon depart. 
 
 1 gaze within the softened light 
 
 Of those dark beaming eyes, 
 And read those looks, which through the night 
 
 In pleasant visions rise. 
 
 Ah do not blame me, if each thought 
 
 Upon thy form must rest. 
 How can the love thy lips have taught, 
 
 E'er leave my faithful breast. 
 
 I feared thy words, I feared thy smile. 
 
 And hushed my trembling heart. 
 But now my soul rejoices, while 
 
 I linger where thou art. 
 
 5* 
 
46 OH BLAME ME NOT. 
 
 Why did'st thou tell me love like thine 
 Could know no sin or pain. 
 
 Too well I feel such love as mine. 
 Thou can'st not meet again. 
 
 Then let us part, I only ask 
 One look of love from thee. 
 
 One word of kindness, and my task 
 Shall end, or hghter be. 
 
 And not a tear and not a sigh 
 For thee, the loved and lost. 
 
 Shall tell my grief when thou art nigh. 
 The anguish thou hast cost. 
 
TO 
 
 'He perished, none wept o'er liis bier." 
 
 Edward C Pinkney. 
 
 Yes, there was one who wept alone 
 
 With silent, bitter tears. 
 That thou wert now in sadness gone 
 
 From life's gay smiling years. 
 
 Before the world could give to thee 
 
 The glory and the fame. 
 Thou might'st have gained and lived to see, 
 
 A truthful poet's name. 
 
 She wept, that one so beautiful 
 
 Should pass away from earth. 
 Like flowers that careless children cull, 
 
 Of fair and early birth — 
 
 And throw upon the callous ground 
 
 To perish there unseen, 
 Till by the thoughtful wanderer found. 
 
 Yet drooping, tho' still green. 
 
48 TO . 
 
 Like these fair buds, thy gentle soul 
 In words more sweet than flowers, 
 
 With ever grateful odor stole 
 O'er time's delighted hours. 
 
 But lost amid earth's mingled cares, 
 Its lireshness seemed to fade. 
 
 Till gathered from life's wearying tares. 
 And cherished in its shade. 
 
 Now blooming in the open day 
 With warm and kindling power, 
 
 Pure, briUiant as the buds that play 
 In summer's fairest hour. 
 
 So thou shall bloom, tho' death's cold hand 
 Has chilled thy suffering heart. 
 
 And every voice, in every land, 
 Breathe music where thou art. 
 
A THOUGHT IN THE DEEP WOOD. 
 
 A PASSING, but bright beam 
 Upon the waters cold. 
 
 Of happiness a dream 
 And love untold. 
 
 A light step o'er the earth. 
 Such as soft winds bring, 
 
 A breath of heaven's birth 
 From angel's wing. 
 
 O beautiful and fair 
 
 That pure hope was to me. 
 As blossoms float in air. 
 
 From earth set free. 
 
 A something Uke to heaven. 
 And yet of earth a shade, 
 
 A lost link from love riven. 
 By sweet hope made. 
 
.THER V/ILD FLOV/ERS FOR ME. 
 
 Gather wild flowers for me, 
 Where pale they bloom; 
 
 I want no brilliant dyes 
 To mock my tomb. 
 
 Gather them all beneath 
 The moon's pale light, 
 
 And let me look on them 
 In saddened night. 
 
 O let me look once more, 
 
 I love them well. 
 Far from the world they hide, 
 
 Alone to dwell. 
 
 And night-winds whisper 
 
 With holy love, 
 A story to those blossoms. 
 
 Of heaven above. 
 
GATHER WILD FLOWERS FOR ME. ol 
 
 The stars gaze on them too. 
 
 And gentle streams 
 Flow kindly by in murmurs. 
 
 Like pleasant dreams. 
 
 There lie the shining dew-drops. 
 
 So bright and clear. 
 And nestle in the flower-cup. 
 
 And tremble there. 
 
 The long grass shadows them. 
 
 Those flowers and dew. 
 The lost bird's timid tears 
 
 Have fall'n there too. 
 
 Then bring me not bright flowers 
 Of summer's day, 
 , Strew not their blossoms o'er 
 My dim pathway. 
 
LEAVES. 
 
 "Spring comes on with, "brilliant flowers, 
 And slowly fades to winter hours." 
 
 The young leaves fluttered ia the air 
 
 To find their Ufe first budding there^ 
 
 And sent their sighs of balmy birth. 
 
 Across the slow reviving earth. 
 
 And shed soft tears upon her breast. 
 
 As evening folded them to rest; 
 
 But soon accustomed to their day. 
 
 In summer winds began to play. 
 
 The dancing sunbeams, sly they court. 
 
 And feel long pleasure's hours too short ; 
 
 Tho' sometimes darkly rests a cloud. 
 
 They care not for the tempest loud. 
 
 To-morrow's sun Avill beam again 
 
 And gild the path where showers have lain; 
 
 Again, the bright and dewy eyes 
 
 Of wakening flowers unfold their dyes. 
 
 Look up beneath the sheltering green. 
 
 Their daily fan and nightly screen. 
 
LEAVES. 53 
 
 And while gay birds are fluttering near. 
 
 With tender songs, how can they fear. 
 
 How can they shrink at coming Wight, 
 
 Or tremble at the robber night. 
 
 O no, they faster grow and spread 
 
 Upon their bright luxurious bed , 
 
 Till on the highest hill of pride. 
 
 They almost heaven's power deride; 
 
 But winter comes with dreary strife. 
 
 Where now the forests' glorious Ufe; 
 
 Bare-headed to the blast they turn. 
 
 With vivid lightning scorch and burn. 
 
 The winds' sharp fingers through them wind. 
 
 And soon their slender fibres find. 
 
 Which, like an old man's scattered hair. 
 
 Hang waveless in the frosty air. 
 
 The sportive birds are fled away. 
 
 To other climes of summer's day ; 
 
 So ends our transient day of hope. 
 
 Scarce pausing from our downward slope, 
 
 In childhood, gentle tears we shed. 
 
 In manhood, raise the haughty head; 
 
 Till age comes on with bitter tears, 
 
 The memory of wasted years. 
 
THY SMILE I Vv^ILL PASS COLDLY BY. 
 
 Thy smile I will pass coldly by. 
 
 Nor will I hear thee speak. 
 Thy breath shall play unheedingly 
 
 O'er my unchanging cheek. 
 
 An idle and a bitter dream 
 
 Hast thou brought to my heart, 
 
 'Twere better in that murmuring stream, 
 From wearied life to part. 
 
 Thy presence was a hope to me, 
 
 A gleam of blissful light. 
 As on the cold and darkened sea. 
 
 There burns a meteor light. 
 
 Deceitful tho' in beauty's glow. 
 
 How beautiful and vain ! 
 The hope it brought, I too well know 
 
 Thou can'st not light again. 
 
LOVE'S LOST STAR. 
 
 Did'st thou not tell me, oft to gaze 
 
 On yon bright star ! 
 Its golden light in gloomy haze 
 
 Looks dim afar. 
 
 I watched when all around was still. 
 
 Nor sound was heard, 
 Save the soft murmurs of the rill. 
 
 By loAV winds stirred. 
 
 1 gazed upon its fading light. 
 
 With constant love. 
 Until it seemed to sink in night 
 
 Prom heaven above. 
 
 O when I wandered on with thee, 
 
 It brightly beamed. 
 Nor hid in clouds, but silently. 
 
 And kindly gleamed. 
 
56 LOVE'S LOST STAR. 
 
 But coldly when thou tumed'st away. 
 
 It beamed no more. 
 Nor could its soulless unveiled ray. 
 
 Love's light restore. 
 
ND V/E MUST MEET AS STRANGERS NOW. 
 
 And we must meet as strangers now. 
 We who have loved so well. 
 
 Must hide with calra unchanging brow, 
 The sorrow none can tell. 
 
 let me weep ! I could not live 
 With this oppressive grief, 
 
 1 could not, tho' the world should give 
 
 Her treasures for relief. 
 
 I do not wish to live, but know 
 I must not yield ray breath, 
 
 TiU time, with lingering pace bestow 
 Life's latest blessing. Death. 
 
 Speak not to me of brighter days. 
 Thou knowest my trembUng heart. 
 
 Its bitter well of love for thee. 
 Its anguish when we part, 
 6* 
 
58 AND WE MUST MEET AS STRANGERS NOW 
 
 And bid me not to love thee less, 
 
 I cannot now forget, 
 I cannot cease to love and bless. 
 
 And keep thine image yet. 
 
THY SISTER I WILL BE. 
 
 Thy sister, I will be. 
 And as the moon pales o'er the lake, 
 Fearing its quiet waves to wake. 
 
 So must thou look on me. 
 
 And as the wintry sun 
 Steals kindly to the glancing snow. 
 Too mild to shed its crimson glow. 
 
 So must my love be won. 
 
 Not, as the raging sea 
 
 Breaks wildly o'er the burning sand. 
 Dashing with foam the silvery strand. 
 
 Not so, shalt thou love me. 
 
 Nor as the scorching ray 
 
 Looks down upon the fresh young flowers. 
 In summer noontide's withering hours. 
 
 With too passionate sway. 
 
60 THY SISTER I WILL BE. 
 
 But as the morning dew 
 
 Lies on the hidden violets' bed. 
 And gentle winds soft odors shed, 
 
 Kind shalt thou be and true. 
 
 Wilt thou not then love me? 
 As lades the light upon the shore 
 But to return, I breathe once more. 
 
 Thy sister I will be. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER. 
 
 She laid it on her throbbing breast. 
 
 It did not move or speak; 
 She listened and it seemed to rest 
 
 Though very pale and weak. 
 
 She gazed again, it smiled once more. 
 
 Then raised its little head ; 
 But soon a look of peace it wore 
 
 As of the blessed dead. 
 
 As if its weary soul were gone 
 
 Unto a purer life. 
 Slow parting, and yet not alone. 
 
 Prom bitter earthly strife. 
 
 How cold and pale it seemed, and yet 
 
 There was a happy smile. 
 We could not in our heart forget, 
 
 Tho' lingering but awhile. 
 
62 THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER. 
 
 And now she presses it again 
 Unto her bleeding heart. 
 
 Whose painful throbbings all are vain. 
 To stay the cruel dart. 
 
 They laid her last, her precious one, 
 Within the mournful grave. 
 
 Not on its little bed of down, 
 But in a lonesome cave. 
 
 Yet with a christian mother's love 
 
 She gave it to His care. 
 And now her thoughts no longer rove, 
 
 But rest in silent prayer — 
 
 To Him who kindly took away. 
 Ere sin and earthly strife. 
 
 Had made its world a toilsome day. 
 And weary night of life. 
 
MY BOUQUET. 
 
 Eighth, anniversary of our wedding day. 
 
 Ask me not for one bright flower, 
 
 I cannot spare thee one, 
 For all would lose their magic power. 
 
 If but a leaf were gone, 
 
 I would not share with other eyes. 
 
 Their tints so dazzling bright. 
 And these soft buds of heavenly dyes 
 
 Must part not from my sight. 
 
 His gaze has rested on them all. 
 
 Each flower its fragrance lent. 
 To please his senses and recall 
 
 The hours of pleasure spent. 
 
 And hope breathed o'er their glowing charms, 
 
 A wish alone for me. 
 That love, from sorrows and alarms. 
 
 Might keep my bosom free. 
 
64 MY BOUQUET. 
 
 And fairer than the fairest flower. 
 That e'er met mortal gaze. 
 
 And richer than the richest dower 
 That fortune's votary sways — 
 
 The love that time can ne'er destroy. 
 That binds us still in heart. 
 
 Alike in sorrow and in joy. 
 Till death shall bid us part. 
 
THE WILD ROSE. 
 
 Sweet May return, and hither bring 
 
 Flora's choicest flowers. 
 Little bird, with fluttering wing. 
 
 Deign to seek her bowers ; 
 Fair spirit of the dewy mead. 
 
 And limpid streamlet flowing, 
 Can'st thou wandering footsteps lead 
 
 Where flowers fair are glowing ? 
 
 For well I love the greenwood shade^ 
 
 There blooms the wild-rose fair. 
 But pluck it not — if it must fade, 
 
 O let it wither there; 
 The hours of love too soon must close, 
 
 'Tis wasting them to pine. 
 Then sigh not for this sweet wild-rose, 
 
 It never can be thine. 
 
MORNING,— ON THE FIRST OF JUNE. 
 
 There came a soft and gentle breatli, ' 
 
 Fresh o'er the grass and flowers. 
 And as it came in murmuring sighs, 
 The gay birds ope'd their sleepy eyes. 
 And looked with brighter glance, beneath 
 Their green and shaded bowers. 
 
 O sweet that breeze is fanning now. 
 The leaves and glittering streams. 
 We know fair summer thou art near. 
 Thy joyous step we almost hear. 
 Thy smile is beaming on my brow. 
 And earth in rapture dreams. 
 
 The flowers put forth their dewy leaves. 
 The young grass waves its joy. 
 The buds that court thy gentle play. 
 Thou takest from the hand of May, 
 And through the mossy web she weaves. 
 The rose leaves dost decoy. 
 
MORNING, — ON THE FIRST OF JUNE. 67 
 
 From dreamy rest they spring to life. 
 And bloom beneath thy gaze. 
 
 Soft, brilliant, as they borrow bliss, 
 From thy sweet breath and sweeter kiss. 
 And twining with a playful strife. 
 In many a wreath y maze. 
 
AH LIN GEE NOT. 
 
 Ah linger not, but leave me. 
 Breathe not thy love again, 
 
 I would not now deceive thee. 
 Or fill thy breast with pain. 
 
 Think how my spirits tremble. 
 With fears I must not show. 
 
 Ask if my eyes dissemble 
 The love thou must not know. 
 
 No visions dark shall hover. 
 Nor o'er thy pathway flee. 
 
 Thou canst not be my lover. 
 Or breathe thy vows to me — 
 
 But thou shalt yet be near me. 
 Thy spirit dwell with mine, 
 
 I will not dearest fear thee. 
 Or for thy loss repine. 
 
AH LINGER NOT. 69 
 
 In dreams when hope is fairest. 
 
 When earthly bliss seems vain, 
 O if my heart thou sharest. 
 
 Then we will meet again. 
 
 Go, and thy soul shall cherish, 
 
 A holier hope for me. 
 Our love can never perish. 
 
 While I breathe a prayer for thee. 
 
I GO WHERE DARKNESS AND SORROW BROOD. 
 
 ■ There brooding darkness spreads her jealous vringi, 
 'And the night raven sings." 
 
 I GO wliere darkness and sorrow brood 
 With the night-winds' moaning sigh, 
 
 Where the moon looks dim on the silent wood. 
 And no human voice is nigh. 
 
 The sweet song-birds away are flown 
 From the thick and voiceless groves. 
 
 The cold dark stream glides slowly on. 
 No breath o'er its surface moves. 
 
 The soft winds rest on their flowery bed. 
 
 In some sunny distant clime, 
 On the cold green turf I lay my head 
 
 Where the earth-worm drags its slime. 
 
 O dark is the deep wild wood beyond. 
 And the stars look cold and pale, 
 
 No voice speaks now in accents fond. 
 And the chill winds sadly wail. 
 
I GO WHERE DARKNESS AND SORROW BROOD. 71 
 
 The midnight gloom, the hollow groan 
 
 Of the stem unbending tree. 
 The harrowing thought that death alone. 
 
 From my anguished grief can free — 
 
 Yet I know there is a shadowy land 
 
 Beyond the dreamless stars. 
 An eye of mercy, a beckoning hand. 
 
 And loose are the golden bars. 
 
 Distant, but how sweet they come. 
 
 Those voices of peaceful joy. 
 Nearer and nearer a heavenly home. 
 
 And no earthly care to destroy. 
 
WHEN O'ER THE GLOOMY PAST. 
 
 'And thou lost fragrance of the heart return." 
 
 When o'er the gloomy past, 
 Its sorrows, hopes and fears. 
 
 One mournful glance I cast. 
 My soul dissolves in tears. 
 
 Bright dreams are fled away. 
 
 Those fair imaginings. 
 Which like soft breezes play. 
 
 Upon the young heart's strings. 
 
 Making sweet music there. 
 While flowers are springing. 
 
 O'er the rude touch of care. 
 Soft odor flinging. 
 
 And as the welcome gleam 
 
 Of morning's gentle ray, , 
 
 Precedes the brightening beam 
 
 That tells a glorious day — 
 
WHEN O'ER THE GLOOMY PAST. 73 
 
 Or like a starlit heaven. 
 
 In whose immortal eyes 
 We read fond hopes forgiven, 
 
 Our tears a sacrifice. 
 
 Softly and gently breathed 
 The spirit of pure prayer. 
 
 So light the column wreathed. 
 No cloud could linger there. 
 
SHE WAS WEEPING. 
 
 'O timid soul that struggling to be free," Sec. 
 
 Shakapeare. 
 
 She was weeping, wildly weeping. 
 O'er the lost, though not the dead, 
 
 For worse than death, the changed look. 
 From which the soul is fled. 
 
 The soul of love, the life of life. 
 
 Once beaming in those eyes. 
 Whose glance had every fear dispelled, 
 
 When gloomy thoughts would rise. 
 
 How can the full and throbbing heart 
 
 That weeps such bitter grief. 
 How can it e'er be still again. 
 
 Or feel on earth relief. 
 
 Better to look upon that grave. 
 Where fond remembrance turns. 
 
 To one whose love could know no change. 
 And in sad memory burns. 
 
SHE WAS WEEPING. 75 
 
 O weep no more, pass coldly by. 
 
 And meet this storm alone. 
 And proudly scorn the bitter taunt. 
 
 The cold and heartless tone. 
 
 Remember 'tis a woman's lot 
 
 To live a Ufe of woe. 
 And like the reptile in its rock, 
 
 A living death to know. 
 
 Enclosed within our mortal cage. 
 
 With stony hearts we dwell. 
 And only feel we cannot die. 
 
 When memory sounds our knell. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 1 WANDERED through the summer grove. 
 
 The birds were gaily singing. 
 Wild blooming trees their fringes wove,* 
 
 And forest sounds were ringing. 
 
 I sat beside the pebbly stream, 
 Its sportive waves were flowing 
 
 Through grassy banks, with softened gleam. 
 And varied colors glowing. 
 
 And as I wandered by its side. 
 Within the clear stream glancing, 
 
 I saw the little bright fish glide. 
 The soft waves o'er them dancing. 
 
 Gay blossoms o'er their surface flowed. 
 
 They seemed so gently sailing, 
 As if by fairy hands bestowed. 
 
 Their transient life regaling. 
 
 *The fringe tree. 
 
SUMMER. 77 
 
 The branches waved their freshest leaves 
 
 And o'er the stream were flinging 
 The soft sweet breath the morning gives^ 
 
 Where early dews are clinging. 
 
 The very earth seemed bright with smiles^ 
 
 Light clouds were swiftly flying. 
 And heaven looked on the flowery isles. 
 
 Beneath her shadow lying. 
 
AUTUMN— INDIAN SUMMER— WINTER. 
 
 But chill winds blow o'er the forest's green. 
 Where summer breezes had lately been. 
 They pass o'er the branches with deadly sweep. 
 And the trembling leaves from that forest deep 
 Send forth from their bower a cry of fear. 
 As the wail of the coming storm they hear; 
 The graceful branches are yielding now. 
 The winds have broken that slender bough. 
 Its green leaves lie on the waving grass. 
 And steps of the ruthless must o'er it pass; 
 Those gay green branches the summer day 
 Saw sporting and wreathing in gentle play. 
 Now toss in the tempest with reckless aim. 
 As giants of old to their revels came; 
 Wildly they throw to the cold blue sky 
 Their threatening arms as the dark clouds fly. 
 The whirlwind rushes with deadly grasp, 
 And the old oak yields to his mighty clasp ; 
 
AUTUMN— INDIAN SUMMER— WINTER. 79 
 
 In struggling battle the loud wind dies. 
 And our woodland's pride on its cold bed lies : 
 Night hides from the wanderer in silent spell. 
 The scattered bowers he loved so well ; 
 
 But morning's rays through the dark woods break. 
 
 And kindly warmth in their torpor wake, 
 
 With grateful smiles for its kindling beams. 
 
 In the depth of its gloom the forest gleams. 
 
 Like the eye of love when its hope is blest. 
 
 Like the varied hues on the wild-fowl's breast. 
 
 And the clustering leaves that the whirlwind's sweep 
 
 Has saved from the fate of the dying heap. 
 
 Now glow in the beams of day's golden light. 
 
 Like stars on the brow of a summer night. 
 
 Gaily they play with soft autumn's sigh. 
 
 Nor dream that the winter of life is nigh ; 
 
 On the towering trees light sun-clouds rest. 
 
 And soft winds toy with their glittering crest. 
 
 Day parts from that deep wood so bright and fair. 
 
 But she leaves a ray of her glory there. 
 
 And the spring of hope in that gentle smile 
 
 That spreads o'er the face of decay awhile. 
 
 And her parting glance oa those waving boughs 
 
 Leaves blushes deep, as when lover^s vows 
 
 Sink in the heart, but live on the cheek. 
 
 And glow in the li^ht of the love they seek. 
 
80 AUTUMN— INDIAN SUMMER — WINTER. 
 
 But Time has looked with his searching eye 
 
 On the leafy covert and breathed a sigh ; 
 
 His cold breath gives to the listening air 
 
 A silent dread of a spirit there. 
 
 And touching lightly the crimson leaves 
 
 They droop and fade as the wild wood grieves, 
 
 And birds of bright plumage are gazing now 
 
 From their trembling nests on the autumn bough. 
 
 Loudly they wail for the pleasant breeze 
 
 As it steals away through the silent trees; 
 
 In terror the gay leaves play no more. 
 
 And cold winds whistle through every pore. 
 
 Slowly they turn to the moon's soft light. 
 
 Their darkened colors in mournful night. 
 
 And seek not vainly her pitying eye. 
 
 As she softly weeps for the winter nigh ; 
 
 In diamonds brighter than mines can give. 
 
 The milhon tears in her brilliance live. 
 
 Gently they roll o'er each stiffening tree. 
 
 And mingling flow in a glassy sea. 
 
 Pale, dreamless spirits of night pass by 
 
 And speak their soul in a whispering sigh. 
 
 To keep those tears through the hallowed night 
 
 They watch o'er the forest till morning light. 
 
 And their gentle breath through the cold night air. 
 
 In frozen sighs leaves bright crystals there; 
 
 And the stricken stars through those mirrored trees, 
 
 Now glitter and pale in the icy breeze; 
 
AUTUMN— INDIAN SUMMER — WINTER. 81 
 
 On that scene of beauty the silent night 
 Looks down in a rapture of still delight. 
 And gazing round with a smile of pride. 
 Her silver sceptre gleams at her side. 
 And her wandering minstrels of earth and air. 
 Now glancing upwards are spell-bound there. 
 
I CANNOT DANCE TO-NIGHT. 
 
 How can I mingle with the throng. 
 
 Or join the merry dance. 
 Or listen to the tender song. 
 
 Or watch the softened glance, 
 O no within my lone heart dwell 
 
 Those saddened memories. 
 Whose presence with a sybil's spell 
 
 A darkened future sees. 
 
 And those bright images of joy. 
 
 Those fleeting forms of hght. 
 Are lovely phantoms to decoy. 
 
 Too beautiful and bright; 
 They seem to me the spirits fair 
 
 Of those I once beheld. 
 Glowing in youthful rapture there. 
 
 By time and death dispelled. 
 
I CANNOT DANCE TO-NIGHT. 83 
 
 How can I view this thoughtless race. 
 
 And laugh and dance with them. 
 Nor see beneath that smiling face 
 
 A rosebud's fragile stem 
 Now living in its home the world. 
 
 Without one thought of sin. 
 Now torn and on its ocean hurled. 
 
 And not a hope within. 
 
 Can the fair world restore again 
 
 And to our vision bring. 
 The hopes we treasured once in vain. 
 
 And brightness o'er them fling ! 
 O no, our hearts are trembling yet 
 
 With fears its memories leave. 
 We cannot, though we would forget 
 
 The thoughts that to us cleave. 
 
 There is no triumph on my brow, 
 
 Nor in my truthful heart. 
 When those who love and trust me now. 
 
 Would never from me part. 
 There is a sadness in my soul, 
 
 A fear within my breast. 
 That love which from their heaven they stole 
 
 Should on a mortal rest. 
 
I SAVv^ THEE. 
 
 I SAW thee! o'er that burning brow 
 There passed the hue of death, 
 
 I knew that thou hadst sworn the vow 
 With thy too changeful breath. 
 
 Could'st thou not see within mine eye. 
 The death-calm of despair, 
 
 Could'st thou not hear my stifled sigh, 
 The anguish breathing there. 
 
 Dost thou remember when we met 
 
 Beside the rocky hill, 
 The greenwood path canst tliou forget 
 
 The bird-notes gentle thrill? 
 
 And thy words sinking in my soul 
 Sweeter than wild-birds' song. 
 
 And softer than the air that stole 
 iEolia's harp along. 
 
SAW THEE. 85 
 
 And years are passed and thou art gone 
 
 Where dwell the rich and gay ; 
 Sweet hopes are thine, and there is one 
 
 To cheer thy onward way. 
 
 And yet within thy heart's deep core 
 
 There is a cherished thought, 
 A dream of one, thou seest no more, 
 
 A hope from heaven sought. 
 
 That she may dwell where happiness 
 
 And peaceful love are shrined ; 
 I could not wish for life, unless 
 
 Our hearts were thus enshrined. 
 
MAHY B. AT A BALL. 
 
 She moved within the circle bright 
 
 Of fashion's gayest throng, 
 Soft ghding like a ray of light. 
 
 Or breath of seraph's song. 
 
 And on her fair and youthful cheek. 
 There played with gentle strife, 
 
 The changeful hues so sweetly meek 
 In childhood's budding life. 
 
 Her blue eyes beamed with softened light, 
 
 She seemed a vision fair, 
 A dream of solitary night, 
 
 Or spirit of the air. 
 
 We gazed upon her lovely face, 
 
 And as she softly smiled. 
 We wondered at that nameless grace 
 
 So beautifully mild. 
 
MARY B. AT A BALL. 87 
 
 Around her pure and stainless brow 
 
 A coral wreath was wound. 
 And with its simple beauty's glow. 
 
 No costly gems were bound. 
 
 The sea-nymphs gathered it beneath 
 
 Their clear blue murmuring wave. 
 For her they twined the ocean wreath 
 
 Within their crystal cave. 
 
 So sweetly fair and innocent. 
 
 She stood an image there. 
 Of those bright souls a moment lent 
 
 To love and bless us here. 
 
YOU'LL NOT FOr.GET. 
 
 You'll not forget my roses, 
 
 The promised flowers forget; 
 But when the evening closes 
 
 And twilight lingers yet, 
 O then you'll pluck my flowers 
 
 With pearly jewels drest. 
 Before the light-winged hours 
 
 Have fanned the dove to rest. 
 
 Ere yet the moon's soft glances 
 
 Across yon shadowy stream 
 Stray o'er the fairy dances 
 
 Beneath its sportive beam, 
 O gather then my flowers 
 
 Ere fairy hps come near 
 To drink the dewy showers 
 
 In melted diamonds there. 
 
YOU'LL NOT FORGET. 89 
 
 O yet before the morning 
 
 Her smiling welcome makes. 
 With kindly gentle warning 
 
 The birds' sweet song awakes, 
 O gather then my roses. 
 
 Ere bird or bee shall sip. 
 The dew that soft reposes 
 
 Upon each crimson lip. 
 
MUSIC. 
 
 There's music everywhere^ 
 Soft murmurs in the lake. 
 
 As rippling waters there 
 The quiet moonbeams wake. 
 
 There's music in the tone 
 
 Of wild-birds' answering voice, 
 Through silence deep and lone 
 
 When wearied hearts rejoice. 
 
 And when the morning light 
 Spreads gaily over earth. 
 
 As flowers and rivers bright 
 Are wakening in their mirth. 
 
 In th' early opening bud. 
 And in the springing grass. 
 
 As sunlight's brilliant flood 
 Or gay winds o'er them pass. 
 
MUSIC. 91 
 
 The trees send forth their breath. 
 With softly fluttering sound. 
 
 Earth winds her flowery wreath. 
 And smiles on all around. 
 
 Soft winds sigh over flowers 
 With music low and sweet. 
 
 As if they loved those hours 
 With gentlest song to greet. 
 
 The whisperings of the breeze 
 Come sweetly to the ear. 
 
 With murmurings of the bees. 
 When human feet are near. 
 
 E'en in the distant hum 
 Of yon dull sleepy lake. 
 
 Sounds like the beating drum, 
 Refreshing slumbers make. 
 
 At day's declining hours. 
 Ere evening's silvery glow 
 
 Spreads o'er the dewy flowers. 
 Her wreaths of mimic snow. 
 
 When twilight's lengthened close 
 Sheds gentle tears on earth. 
 
 Ere glo'omy darkness grows. 
 Or bright- eyed stars have birth. 
 
92 MUSIC. 
 
 When words of love we hear. 
 The kiss of love we meet. 
 
 When hope's young voice is near. 
 Is there not music sweet? 
 
 Softly the mourning dove 
 Calls for her wandering mate. 
 
 Sweet in that song of love 
 Their mingled web of fate. 
 
 Bright fairies wing their flight. 
 O'er waving grass and flowers. 
 
 And dance by soft moonlight. 
 In gaily perfumed bowers. 
 
 The low waves sing to them. 
 The air its music lends. 
 
 As o'er each bending stem, 
 A song of joy it sends. 
 
MUSIC. 
 
 There's music in the hollow tone 
 Of steepled church and tower 
 
 As sounding through the forest lone. 
 Or in deep midnight hour, 
 
 A cheerful song it sends to those 
 Who love to hear of heaven. 
 
 At morning's dawn, at evening's close. 
 To all is warning given. 
 
 In stormy vpinds that rushing near 
 
 Proclaim His awful power, 
 More than the warlike trumpet clear 
 
 That sounds a fearful hour. 
 
 Do not the foaming waves rebound. 
 
 The billows sing of Him, 
 As loud the answering rocks resound 
 
 And sea-birds o'er them skim. 
 
 9* 
 
94 MUSIC. 
 
 In childhood's softly lisping tongue. 
 The good man's fervent prayer. 
 
 And in those holy accents sung 
 Is there not music there? 
 
 And sweet it breathes in thy loved words 
 With softened minstrelsy, 
 
 Like mellow tones of unfledged birds 
 Where none can witness be. 
 
 Whene'er we hear kind nature's voice 
 In friendship, love or peace. 
 
 Or in the wild- wood path, rejoice. 
 Her song can never cease. 
 
MIDNIGHT ON THE WATERS. 
 Irregular Lines. 
 
 O'er the waters dark 
 Rushed our rapid bark. 
 All was hushed within. 
 But fearful was the din 
 Of angry parting waves 
 As among their hollow caves. 
 They dashed with reckless fear. 
 But seemed to murmur near. 
 That through the silent night 
 
 In its deep and calm repose. 
 With the heavens clear and bright 
 
 They rest not to its close. 
 Nor the lone sea hear. 
 And on its bosom bear 
 The music and the brightness. 
 The winds in summer lighmess. 
 That were slowly spreading there. 
 
96 MIDNIGHT ON THE WATERS. 
 
 Through our foamy path. 
 Still we met their wrath. 
 Hastening on our way 
 To the bustling day. 
 The stars looked out in mildness 
 O'er the watery wildness. 
 And from their drapery'd bed 
 A gentle lustre shed. 
 Alone I looked and listened. 
 
 How beautiful the scene 
 As Heaven and ocean glistened, 
 
 And wanderers we between : 
 O if the sky should darken. 
 
 And stormy winds arise. 
 Then to that voice we hearken. 
 
 Which thunders through the skies. 
 
 On life's ocean dark 
 Sails our weary bark. 
 And the many storms 
 That wreck at last our forms. 
 Bring us to that fatal shore 
 Where we never wander more, 
 And day comes not again. 
 But in grief or pain. 
 Let us from the past 
 
 Gather strength in love. 
 Love that will forever last 
 
 Bright as stars above. 
 
MIDNIGHT ON THE WATERS. 97 
 
 Boundless as the ocean waves. 
 Beautiful and clear; 
 
 May we sink within our graves 
 With not a mortal fear. 
 
THE DAUGHTER'S LAMENT. 
 
 My mother let me go to thee. 
 
 My heart is sad and lone. 
 The world looks dark and cold to me 
 
 Since thou art from me gone. 
 
 I see no more thy kindly smile, 
 
 I hear thy voice no more, 
 O let me rest with thee awhile 
 
 Till this sad pain is o'er. 
 
 My heart was always true to thee 
 
 In sorrow as in joy. 
 And thine was still as true to me. 
 
 Then mother hear me now. 
 
 Look down upon thy sorrowing child. 
 
 Send to her spirit peace. 
 And if her love thy woe beguiled. 
 
 Pray for her soul's release. 
 
THE DAUGHTER'S LAMENT. 99 
 
 O by the years together spent 
 
 Of sympathy and love. 
 By all the joy and trouble sent. 
 
 Look on me from above. 
 
 And once more let a mother's breast 
 
 Receive my wretched head. 
 And let me now forever rest. 
 
 Where tears no more are shed 
 
 Then mother, let me go to thee, 
 
 I cannot rest me here. 
 For all will from my sorrow flee. 
 
 With thee, I cannot fear. 
 
THY -WILL BE DONE. 
 
 Oh happy are the young who die, 
 God takes them to his holy sky. 
 In angels' robes his praise they sing. 
 And glide through air whh angel wing. 
 Where free from sorrow, care and strife. 
 They glory in their better life. 
 
 And happy too, the old man's heart 
 Who well sustains a virtuous part. 
 Upon the earth he soon must leave. 
 And few of those he loved, to grieve; 
 With holy hope upon his brow. 
 As in his heart he whispers low — 
 
 My God, I thank Thee that my days 
 Are nearly spent, and though my ways 
 On earth were used to do thy will. 
 While praising Thee, I uttered still 
 A prayer that thou shouldst take my soul 
 Unto its place, a blessed goal. 
 
THY WILL BE DONE. 101 
 
 Forgive me, if this prayer I make. 
 Forgive me for thy mercy's sake; 
 But mortal flesh is loth to bear 
 The weight of each dechning year. 
 But though I wait my time in pain, 
 I will not breathe this prayer again. 
 
 But onward keep my weary way. 
 Until I feel thy glorious ray ; 
 Though slow and heavy is my path. 
 It still a cheering blessing hath. 
 For brightly has thy mercy shone. 
 Oh God forgive. Thy will be done. 
 
 10 
 
THE SPRING-TIME OP THE YEAR IS 
 
 The spring-time of the year is come, 
 
 I see it in the buds that peep 
 Beneath their low-roofed mossy home, 
 
 Ahhough their little stems they keep 
 Within the moist earth's genial bed. 
 And just put forth each white-capped head. 
 
 Be not too tardy or too fast. 
 
 Fair flowers raise slow your tender stems. 
 If quick you come you cannot last. 
 
 And dew-drops will not rest in gems 
 Upon those frail and pallid lips. 
 Nor wild-bees take their morning sips. 
 
 Wait till the sun shall send his ray. 
 Wait tUl the sky sends gentle rain. 
 
 And when soft moonbeams o'er thee play. 
 Then show those blooming heads again. 
 
 For frosts may rob thy beauteous birth. 
 
 And lay thee on the chilly earth. 
 
THE SPRING-TIME OF THE YEAR IS COME. 103 
 
 Thy crimson lips, thy emerald robes 
 With wreaths of purple, gold and white. 
 
 Thy soft blue eyes like little globes. 
 Will brightly glow in summer light. 
 
 Then bloom not while the winter's breath 
 
 Shall waken thee, to life in death. 
 
 Let not ambition's ardour burn. 
 
 To show thy beauty ere its time. 
 Such paltry folly from thee spurn. 
 
 Wait till young voices' laughing chime 
 SliaU call thee to the pleasant fields. 
 Where glowing spring her treasure yields. 
 
MY FIRST SOP.ROW. 
 
 I REMEMBER thee my father. 
 
 When thine eyes were closed in death, 
 When no sound my ear could gather. 
 
 From thy coldly silent breath. 
 
 1 sought thee in the grassy spot, 
 
 I missed thee in the hall. 
 My heart was there, but thou wert not, 
 
 Alas! t'was silence all. 
 
 In cold and gloom I found thee. 
 
 And ran to thy embrace. 
 My little arms around thee. 
 
 My lips close to thy face. 
 
 But O my father, thou wert colder 
 
 Than the winter's icy chill. 
 Thine arms no more enfold her. 
 
 Whose love thy heart could fill. 
 
MY FIRST SORROW. 105 
 
 I knew not death had chill'd thy cheek, 
 
 I kneAv not how he came, 
 I only wished to hear thee speak. 
 
 Once more thy daughter's name. 
 
 I remember nought but sorrow. 
 
 That hour has been ray lot. 
 Cold, Ufeless, on the morrow. 
 
 My father loved me not. 
 
 I hid when all was over, 
 
 I knew not what to fear. 
 But saw that dark cloud hover. 
 
 Which has never left me here. 
 
 10* 
 
LET THE REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 "O human love, -wliose yearning heart 
 Through all things vainly true, 
 
 So stamps upon the mortal part. 
 Its passionate adieu 
 
 Let the remembrance of my form be lost, 
 Let it not dwell one moment in thy heart, 
 
 Breathe not my name, and now forget the cost. 
 Of all those hours that lingering slow depart. 
 
 I would not, that thy memory should live 
 Upon those words so vainly, warmly spoken, 
 
 I would not, that thy treasured thoughts should give, 
 For me one tender sigh, one raptured token. 
 
 Think of me now as one forever gone 
 Whose soul and heart are lost in chaos dark. 
 
 The atoms of whose frame to dust have flown 
 And in the universe have left no mark. 
 
LET THE REMEMBRANCE. 107 
 
 Pure as that light which on my soul has beamed 
 I breathed the atmosphere of human love. 
 
 And as the sun that for a moment seemed 
 Obscured by clouds that veiled the light above — 
 
 So o'er the inmost treasure of my soul, 
 A wreathy column wound its mistlike form; 
 
 Now as the shadows silently depart, 
 I feel its brightness through the threatened storm. 
 
THE EVER-GREEN AND THE WITHERED FLOWERS. 
 
 These withered flowers, they bring to me 
 
 An odor as of heaven. 
 Because they were preferred by thee, 
 
 And by thy kind love given. 
 
 When first their fresh bright colors glowed 
 
 Upon my weary eye. 
 They seemed by angel hands bestowed. 
 
 And never formed to die. 
 
 But though they droop and wither now. 
 
 Beneath my watchful care. 
 Thy constant love, thy changeless vow 
 
 Their fate can never share. 
 
 Yet earth's bright treasure though unseen 
 
 Among the fair array. 
 Now looks as brightly, fresh and green 
 
 When others fade away. 
 
rHE EVER-GREEN AND THE WITHERED FLOWERS. 109 
 
 As if the cherished hand that gave 
 
 These loved and beauteous flowers. 
 Were guarding them from death to save, 
 
 And time's unyielding hours; 
 
 So like thy love it ever seems 
 
 To bloom more soft and pure. 
 When others change, and pleasure's dreams 
 
 No lasting flower secure. 
 
 Through branches of this deathless tree 
 
 May heaven's colors show. 
 And lasting as thy love for me 
 
 May mine for heaven glow. 
 
 Through dreary hours and winter's chill. 
 
 It looks more firm and bright. 
 And constant as thy deep love still 
 
 Remains through change and blight. 
 
 I look upon these withered leaves 
 
 While pale around they lay. 
 And as I gaze my spirit grieves 
 
 Their bloom should pass away. 
 
 The fair sweet dream of early love 
 
 We may have cast aside. 
 When fairy wreaths of pleasure wove 
 
 Their earthly bower of pride. 
 
110 THE EVER-GREEN AND THE AVITHERED FLOWERS. 
 
 But truth, and love, and constancy 
 
 Are now our home of bUss, 
 And ewer-green that bower to me. 
 
 With such a love as this. 
 
THE HOME OF MY CHILDHOOD. 
 WoTkington. 
 
 I sigh for the wild-wood, 
 
 There, only there! 
 Was the home of my childhood. 
 
 My earliest prayer. 
 
 There sung the gay birds 
 
 Wildly and sweet. 
 And soft as the fond words. 
 
 When young lovers meet. 
 
 I caught there the wild breeze 
 
 As swiftly it flew. 
 To dance o'er the bright trees 
 Sparkling with dew. 
 
 It played with the branches, 
 And shook the green leaves. 
 
 As wild in its prances 
 It stir'd the light sheaves. 
 
112 THE HOME OF MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 There grew the violets 
 
 Close by the stream. 
 On green fairy islets. 
 
 Sweet as love's dream. 
 
 They clustered together 
 
 Beneath the oak tree. 
 On the banks of dark heather 
 
 And on the green lea. 
 
 Their bright leaves unveiling 
 
 Deep, soft dewy eyes, 
 Their sweet breath exhaling 
 
 To spring's early skies. 
 
 They shrank from the green earth. 
 And looked up to heaven. 
 
 As blessing the sweet birth 
 Its own hue had given. 
 
LAUREL MOUNTAIN— COVERED WITH SNOW. 
 
 White as the wings of angels, when they glow 
 With Heaven's soft brilliance, and a lustre throw 
 Upon the distant sea and sleeping land. 
 So in its glory did that mountain stand, 
 GUstening in moonlight, glowing in the day 
 With all the gorgeous hues that o'er it play. 
 And rising to the clear blue clouds, alone. 
 That seem to rest upon its snowy cone; 
 Tall trees stretch forth their dark and mighty arms. 
 As if in pride above all earth's alarms. 
 And clothed with winter's green and lasting shade. 
 They live in beauty that will never fade. 
 Bright glossy leaves of laurel branches glow 
 Among the lower banks of glittering snow: 
 How beautiful the scene — no breath of night 
 Disturbs the stillness of that briUiant light. 
 And shadows rest upon the untrack'd wood. 
 As still as ice upon the wintry flood. 
 No foot of mortal man has ever trod 
 Within that beauteous forest, deep and broad, 
 U 
 
114 LAUREL MOUNTAIN— COVERED WITH SNOW 
 
 So deep and silent, and so coldly pure. 
 No human heart could feel the path secure — 
 Save his, who looks beyond the storms of hfe 
 To struffsrle onward for the better hfe. 
 
NIG-HT. 
 
 In the deep silence of the night. 
 
 As stars are dimly gazing, 
 I look upon the beauteous sky. 
 
 The clouds each other chasing. 
 
 They seem to play like gentle lambs 
 
 Among the starry flowers. 
 Unmindful of the stormy day 
 
 That brings its gloomy hours. 
 
 When working day, and weary rest 
 
 Divide the sullen time. 
 And all is sad, and life and light 
 
 Ring out their daily chime — 
 
 Fair night, among the flowers and dew 
 Comes softly o'er my brow. 
 
 And thoughts of day are lightly cast. 
 Beneath her magic glow. 
 
116 NIGHT. 
 
 Sweet flowers whose fragrance is revealed 
 
 Among the waving grass, 
 As night-winds o'er your gentle heads 
 
 In pleasant murmurs pass. 
 
 And streams whose voice is scarcely heard 
 When daylight's sounds are near. 
 
 How sweetly flow your starlit waves. 
 Soft gliding, low and clear. 
 
I AM THINE. 
 
 I AM thine^ I am thine. 
 
 The timid moon was rising 
 
 Above yon fleecy cloud. 
 Like a pure spirit parting 
 
 From its earthly shroud. 
 
 Thou art mine, thou art mine. 
 
 The waving summer branches 
 Of these old forest trees. 
 
 Were playing with their shadows. 
 And sighing in the breeze. 
 
 I am thine, I am thine. 
 
 The lights were dimly gleaming 
 Upon the distant shore. 
 
 Now glimmering, and now paling, 
 Above the ocean's roar. 
 
 11* 
 
118 1 AM THINE. 
 
 Thou art mine, thou art mine. 
 Beneath the vault of heaven. 
 
 And by the Ungering bliss. 
 When stars and waves are meeting 
 
 In one long dreamy kiss. 
 
HUDSON RIVER. 
 
 The glorious sun looked down and smiled 
 
 Upon that sparkling river. 
 And earth was glowing bright and mild 
 
 With all that heaven could give her. 
 And light and shade, with gentle strife. 
 
 So peacefully were blended. 
 It seemed the storms of nature's life 
 
 Had there forever ended. 
 
 And swiftly sped our stately boat. 
 
 As if the winds had taught her. 
 To show the lagging sails afloat, 
 
 A pathway o'er the water ; 
 The merry waves were gaily drest 
 
 In silvery frost-work glancing 
 And tossed on high a feathery crest 
 
 With ghttering sunbeams dancing. 
 
120 HUDSON RIVER. 
 
 And sportive winds among the waves 
 
 With frohc steps were bounding, 
 As through the mossy hidden caves. 
 
 Their joyous voice was sounding; 
 And ev'n upon the rocky shore 
 
 From green banks swiftly flying. 
 They went to tell their love once more, 
 
 In accents softly sighing. 
 
 As on we sped, the Hngering day 
 
 Went by with gentle gladness. 
 And threw her last and brightest ray 
 
 O'er twilight's coming sadness; 
 And ere that ray in golden threads 
 
 Had sunk to evening shades, 
 A gorgeous sunset glow o'erspreads 
 
 Those ancient palisades. 
 
 And then the moon rose bright and clear 
 
 From dayhght slumbers rested. 
 As in her wide blue mantle near 
 
 The young pale stars were vested ; 
 And looking down with mirthful guile 
 
 Across the gladsome river 
 Within her soft dehghted smile 
 
 The sparkhng waters quiver. 
 
HUDSON RIVER. 121 
 
 And other pens and lips than mine 
 
 May paint with colors glowing 
 The magic of its gay sunshine. 
 
 Its moonlight waters flowing — 
 Still on that scene my memory dwells 
 
 Dear to my heart its glory. 
 Though faint my praise, the river tells 
 
 Its own too beauteous story. 
 
THE STORM-KING- 
 
 Now spirits wake from their dreamy rest, 
 
 Aad rise on their gloomy wings. 
 From the hidden cave to the mountain's crest. 
 
 The gathering throng begins. 
 
 The storm-king howls to the darkened sky, 
 And she looks with her heavy frown. 
 
 From the glance he starts while the lightnings fly, 
 And the tliunder rattles down. 
 
 On the waveless lake he wildly breathes 
 
 Now so deadly still and cold. 
 Its stagnant face it slowly wreathes. 
 
 But the smiles look grim and old. 
 
 The leafless trees are groaning loud. 
 
 The branches writhe in vain 
 To tear their limbs from the old oak proud 
 
 As it wrestles in its pain. 
 
THE STORM-KING. 123 
 
 The withered leaves are wild with mirth. 
 
 As reckless winds drive on. 
 And bear them high from the chilly earth. 
 
 Where all is dark and lone. 
 
 O how they dance with hollow glee 
 
 Upon the piercing winds. 
 Like witches when the sunbeams flee. 
 
 And darkness round them binds. 
 
 And clutching every shrinking branch. 
 
 And shaking every bough, 
 The storm-king rushes to the launch 
 
 And turns the vessel's prow. 
 
 The waves rise up and white with rage 
 
 Dash o'er the proud ship's side. 
 But what cares he, the war he'll wage. 
 
 Loud whistUng as he rides. 
 
 The fleet of masts, the crowd of sail 
 
 Rush on with rapid pace. 
 What human aid could now avail 
 
 To stay the maddening race. 
 
 The white sails flap their heavy wings. 
 
 Against the creaking masts. 
 More loudly yet the master sings. 
 
 Amidst the howling blasts. 
 
124 THE STORM-KING. 
 
 Scarce breathe the sailors watching near. 
 Low bends the trembling knee. 
 
 While every heart is still with fear. 
 And sea-birds screaming flee. 
 
 Then on thy lowly cottage hearth. 
 
 And in the palace hall. 
 He wildly laughs in scornful mirth. 
 
 And sounds his warlike call. 
 
 The pride of earthly hopes he quells. 
 The structure rich and proud. 
 
 Dismantling roofs, where thoughtless dwell 
 The gay unconscious crowd. 
 
 Through turrets high, and gorgeous domes. 
 He speeds his wayward flight, 
 
 To pleasant gardens, happy homes. 
 He brings a sullen night. 
 
 Then mounting on his coal-black steed 
 The darkest cloud of heaven. 
 
 He starts again with furious speed. 
 As if the earth were riven. 
 
 And darting up the mountain side 
 Throws on his snow-white shroud. 
 
 As weary of his stormy ride 
 Among the frightened crowd. 
 
THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Where is thy voice my gentle child. 
 
 Bend kindly near, 
 Specik to the one thou loved'st so well. 
 
 And answer, where! 
 
 Or do I hear it in the air. 
 
 When summer's breath 
 In softest whispers tell me low. 
 
 There is no death? 
 
 That thou art now an angel fair 
 
 Within those skies. 
 And pleasant thoughts and purest hopes 
 
 Beam in those eyes. 
 
 The eyes that looked with love on me. 
 
 More pure and clear 
 Than aught on earth, because the soul 
 
 Of love was there. 
 12 
 
126 THE DEPARTED. 
 
 In Heaven thou art, and happier, 
 
 O that I were with tliee 
 Among bright forms and holy hopes. 
 
 And angel minstrelsy. 
 
 How could I mourn that thou wert dead, 
 
 With selfish love. 
 Look on me now and pitying pray 
 
 From Heaven above. 
 
THOn WHOSE BALANCE DOES THE MOUNTAINS WEIGH. 
 
 O IF I could pour out my soul to Thee, 
 
 In songs that wake the heart's deep melody. 
 
 And call my wandering spirit to thy throne 
 
 To bow before Thee and no idol own. 
 
 And kneel in thy pure presence, where no trace 
 
 Of sin or sorrow, can have thought or place! . 
 
 Then would my heart, with hope and pleasure beat, 
 
 Alone with Thee, to hold communion sweet; 
 
 Upon the stormy, or the peaceful sea. 
 
 How sweet to be alone, and loved by Thee, 
 
 Or if war's banner waves, and battle cries 
 
 Ring through the air, to raise my pleading eyes 
 
 To thy bright Heaven, and see no cloud upon 
 
 The matchless glory of thy beaming sun. 
 
 As through the deep blue ether, bright and lone. 
 
 He ne'er upon a deed of sin had shone; 
 
 Alone with Thee! upon the pathless wave, 
 
 Where all around me, lies a homeless grave. 
 
128 o THOU WHOSE BALANCE, ETC. 
 
 But fearing naught, and looking but to Thee 
 Whose hand can crush us, or our bodies free; 
 As sinks tlie sun within his glorious bed. 
 To feel our eyelids close, and evening shed 
 Her dimness o'er us, and to fear no ill. 
 Though danger walk abroad, with ruthless will ; 
 And more than all, to step with fearless feet 
 Along the flowery way, where briers meet 
 To hide, beneath the gay and blooming flowers 
 All brightly gilded o'er with summer showers 
 And guarded by the tempter of mankind. 
 Whose wily folds around thy heart may wind. 
 Unscathed from toils, all earthly pleasures past. 
 To find a heavenly home of peace, at last. 
 
A SUMMEE^'S DAY. 
 
 It was a quiet summer da^^ 
 When all the insects went to play 
 Within the joyous sunbeams' glow 
 Upon the river's sparkling flow, 
 As o'er their tiny wings of gold 
 The varied hues in light unfold. 
 The butterfly in pride of day 
 Would rest awhile, then whirl away. 
 And buzzing flies of golden green 
 Were idling where the bees had been ; 
 I wandered o'er the grassy hills. 
 Beneath them flowed the shaded rills; 
 And fear and anguish lost their strength 
 While gazing on my shadow's length. 
 So silent in companionship. 
 As if there were no hopes to nip. 
 No peace to mar or wealth to gain. 
 As if life had no mortal pain ; 
 12* 
 
130 A SUMMER'S DAY. 
 
 A figure as of human life 
 
 Without the power of human strife; 
 
 The little birds came hopping by 
 
 And seemed as if about to fly. 
 
 But looking on my quiet face. 
 
 Resumed their play with careless grace. 
 
 And sidUng on their htde feet. 
 
 Their gay companions, sly they greet, 
 
 And twitt'ring low their song of love, 
 
 They rest within the shady grove; 
 
 Soft bloom the flowers, the leaves are stirred 
 
 By gentle winds, or when a bird 
 
 Lights suddenly upon a stem 
 
 Which trembles with its Uving gem; 
 
 How sweet the breath of flowers in May 
 
 The first that live their little day. 
 
 So mildly formed in nature's mould, 
 
 So modest as their leaves unfold. 
 
 And as their colors simply show 
 
 The sweeter perfume dwells below. 
 
THE MERMAID. 
 
 The lazy moon was sailing by. 
 
 Across a peaceful lake. 
 And dipped her silvery oars within, 
 
 The quiet waves to wake. 
 
 For on the shore a maiden stood. 
 
 And wept with bitter grief. 
 And there were none to comfort her. 
 
 Or bring her heart relief. 
 
 Her long fair locks were streaming down 
 Like threads of golden sands. 
 
 And as she gazed in trembling fear. 
 She clasped her snowy hands. 
 
 O take me to your bosom wave. 
 And hide my sorrowing head. 
 
 My lover comes no more on earth, 
 I fear that he is dead. 
 
132 THE MERMAID. 
 
 She moved a weary foot, to plunge 
 
 Within the waters fair. 
 And as she wept, the careless winds 
 
 Were playing with her hair. 
 
 Then rose a bright, but tearful wave 
 
 The queen of all the lake. 
 With shining pearls upon her head. 
 
 And thus she kindly spake. 
 
 Fair girl, I'll take thee to ray home. 
 
 Among my coral caves, 
 And thou shalt wind our fairest wreaths 
 
 Beneath the placid waves. 
 
 But for the sin thou wouldst commit. 
 
 Thy task shall daily be 
 To wander on the rocky shores. 
 
 Or weep beside the sea. 
 
 And thou shaU wreathe thy glowing hair, 
 With pearls and coral beads. 
 
 And play thy sweetly mournful notes, 
 Through shepherd's ancient reeds. 
 
 The maiden stepped with gladsome smile. 
 
 Within the pleasant lake, 
 The moonbeams played, the waters danced, 
 
 As winds soft music make. 
 
HERE AE-E THE RUINED V/ALLS. 
 
 Here are the ruined walls^ 
 There is the structure proud, 
 
 Lo! where the owlet calls. 
 See there the laughing crowd. 
 
 All are alike to me. 
 
 Indifferent are both, 
 The old oak in the forest free. 
 
 Invites my wandering sloth. 
 
 I pause within its shade. 
 
 And watch its darkening hues. 
 
 Here once a bower we made. 
 Now rest my heart and muse. 
 
 I linger where the flowers. 
 Grow sweet without man's care. 
 
 And where the silent hours 
 Have neither hope nor fear. 
 
134 HERE ARE THE RUINED AYALLS. 
 
 Yon battlements once bore 
 A hundred warriors gone. 
 
 The painted glass stares o'er 
 The ruined portal stone. 
 
 The lizard climbs its walls. 
 The owl her nest has made, 
 
 And where the wild-bird calls, 
 r rest within the shade. 
 
 The grass is soft and green, 
 The distant hills look bright, 
 
 And mildly flows between, 
 A river's sparkling light. 
 
 To me the world seems lone. 
 Though rayed in brilliant gems, 
 
 These flowers, this humble stone 
 All other wealth contemns. 
 
 I dream in lordly halls, 
 
 I list the music sweet 
 Soft chiming as it falls. 
 
 With every pulse's beat. 
 
 All are alike to me, 
 
 I care not where I breathe. 
 
 On earth, a home with thee. 
 Without, a grave beneath. 
 
NIGHT. 
 
 I COULD not sleep, each wearyiBg thought 
 Its painful strength from silence caught. 
 And passed in darkness o'er my soul 
 As clouds before their heaven roll, 
 Or shadows on the moonlit sea 
 GUde on in dimness, mournfuUy; 
 I wandered forth, the silent Night 
 Looked on me with her eyes of Hght, 
 And seemed to watch with hoUest gaze 
 The deepening gloom of earthly rays; 
 The moon, her fair and gentle child 
 Across the waters glanced and smiled. 
 Or hid within the snowy fold 
 Of Hght- winged vapors rimmed with gold. 
 Then rose with softer hght, and shone 
 Beyond the parting clouds, alone; 
 And far above earth's brightening face. 
 She moved along with stately grace 
 Among the crowds of ghttering stars. 
 O'er jewelled wreaths and golden bars; 
 
136 NIGHT. 
 
 Then drew her silvery veil aside. 
 
 And cast it with a queenly pride 
 
 Upon the pale and sleeping earth 
 
 That nightly from her glorious birth 
 
 Reposed beneath those watchful eyes. 
 
 While cold and still it darkly lies ; 
 
 And glancing over land and sea. 
 
 Her glittering folds so silently. 
 
 There seemed among those rays so fair 
 
 A beaming radiance through the air, 
 
 As if the hands of angels bright 
 
 Were holding there that veil of light, 
 
 To hide from Heaven each earthly care 
 
 By mortals wept and suffered here. 
 
 Bright stars sped through the glowing space. 
 
 And sparkled o'er her quiet face, 
 
 Gluick messengers from distant spheres 
 
 To other worlds whose hght appears 
 
 In pale and holy brilliance far, 
 
 As if a near approach would mar 
 
 The gentle radiance coldly fair 
 
 That trembles through the still night air. 
 
 O glorious peaceful is the Night, 
 
 Her quiet hope, her watchful light. 
 
 While gazing on her beauteous smile. 
 
 No sin nor sorrow can defile 
 
 That holiest presence, nor have place 
 
 Beneath her silent, wondrous grace. 
 
THE INDIAN MAID. 
 
 She was a gay and happy Indian maid. 
 And long was loved and chosen for his bride. 
 
 Her gentle heart she yielded, not afraid 
 To go through life, her lover by her side. 
 
 She roved the forest, rested near the stream. 
 She gathered wild flowers for her long dark hair. 
 
 She gazed upon the sky in many a dream 
 Of youth and beauty in this world so fair. 
 
 And when her lover came, and whispers low 
 Stole swiftly to her ear in pleasant voice. 
 
 Her young delighted heart's impulsive flow 
 Made all things seemingly on earth rejoice. 
 
 She stood a beautiful and happy bride. 
 The birds sung sweetly on the flowering trees. 
 
 Her chieftain father looked with glowing pride 
 Upon the one on earth he loved to please. 
 
138 THE INDIAN MAID. 
 
 Her feathers gay and brightly glittering beads 
 Adorned her young and graceful bending head. 
 
 But nought the trusting, gentle maiden heeds. 
 Save him by whom her conscious step is led. 
 
 The story of a broken heart is old. 
 The madness of a heart neglected long 
 
 Which used to beat with happiness untold 
 
 Whose voice gushed forth to greet him like a song. 
 
 And flowers came and went, and came again. 
 And he was never resting by her side. 
 
 And heavy was her bosom's lonely pain. 
 As past the Indian hunters swiftly ride. 
 
 She gazes from the window of her hut. 
 She watches for the softest, slightest sound, 
 
 And when she thinks him near, her eyehds shut 
 With too much happiness in all around. 
 
 But O he comes not, on her widowed soul 
 Sad memory is too painful for her now. 
 
 She cannot calm her heart, her thoughts control. 
 As life comes rushing o'er her pallid brow. 
 
 And day and night the harrowing thought was there. 
 And nightly were her troubled dreams unblest. 
 
 He came not, and a sullen calm despair 
 
 Was wearing out her life, with grief opprest. 
 
THE INDIAN MAID. 139 
 
 Had she been taught by books or life, the tale 
 
 Which many could relate of bitter woe. 
 She might have been prepared to meet the gale. 
 
 Or lived the life of grief which passeth show — 
 
 As many a wife has learned at last to do. 
 
 Though in a fiery path she struggles on. 
 And pride or principle will bring her through. 
 
 Though every happy smile of hope is gone. 
 
 She looks for him in vain, her spirit weeps. 
 Impatient of her wrongs, she madly turns 
 
 To where her infant daughter smiling sleeps. 
 And then her brain with memory's torture burns. 
 
 She hastens to the meadows where so fair 
 The lily grows among its glossy leaves. 
 
 She plucks a blossom, and in deep despair. 
 While gazing on its beauty, wildly grieves. 
 
 And crushing all its petals with her hand 
 
 She places it within her lonely hut. 
 Sad emblem of herself whom fate's dark wand 
 
 From all things pleasant has her senses shut. 
 
 Then turning to her infant girl, she twines 
 Fresh flowers around its little baby form. 
 
 And while its future fate she well divines. 
 She thinks to keep her dear one from life's storm. 
 
140 THE INDIAN MAID. 
 
 And clasping tenderly the happy child. 
 She rushes to the waters' sparkling flood. 
 
 Holding It to her breast with gesture wild 
 And thinking only of its future good. 
 
 Upon the dizzy height of those bright glancing falls. 
 She launches now her trembUng light canoe. 
 
 And singing as the night-bird softly calls. 
 To death they sink, the child, and she so true. 
 
 The spirit-land she thought to find at last 
 Beyond those glorious gates of sparkhng light. 
 
 And from her soul, the mortal grief she cast. 
 And sunk in dying song from mortal sight. 
 
THE STAR SEEN AT MID-DAI 18i; 
 
 Why look'st thou on the busy earth 
 
 la daylight's glare. 
 Watching its noisy heartless mirth. 
 
 Its withering care? 
 
 Or hast thou lent thy gentle beams 
 
 To warn us here. 
 That life and pleasure are but dreams 
 
 With Heaven so near. 
 
 Perchance thou gazest in delight 
 
 On virtuous deeds. 
 The glowing sky through silent night 
 
 Thy presence needs. 
 
 But if thou wanderest far away 
 
 From starry skies 
 To look about in sportive play 
 
 On earthly eyes — 
 13* 
 
142 THE STAR SEEN AT MID-DAY, 1843. 
 
 O gaze not oq them, better far 
 
 To keep thy way 
 Through those-bright worlds, thou glittering star. 
 
 And Heaven obey. 
 
 Like a fair vision thou dost glide 
 
 As on we plod. 
 And pale thou seem'st so close beside 
 
 Day's burning god. 
 
WHY LOOK SO COLDLY. 
 
 Why look so coldly on me now? 
 
 Why hangs such gloom upon thy brow? 
 
 Ah tell me if within thine eye 
 
 There dwells not some lone mystery. 
 
 Is there no beaming smile for me 
 
 No gentle word so sweet from thee. 
 
 No sympathy for tender sorrow 
 
 Nor kindly greeting for the morrow? 
 
 Must thou be sad or wildly gay 
 
 And from me turn thy heart away ? 
 
 1 deemed not that the sillren net 
 
 I gaily spread when first we met 
 
 Would wind its meshes round my heart. 
 
 Nor that the ever poisoned dart 
 
 Had winged its flight where love was keeping 
 
 Soft watches over me while sleeping; 
 
 Thou must have plucked that purple flower 
 
 Which grew in fair Titania's bower 
 
 And pressed its juices on mine eyes 
 
 And fanned me with thy gentle sighs. 
 
144 WHY LOOK SO COLDLY. 
 
 Or if there were do blossom near 
 Thou twinedst me round with gossamer 
 I call upon thee, by the light 
 Of those pale stars, and by the blight 
 Upon the withered dewless flower 
 Unfreshened by the noontide shower 
 To turn again with kindly smile 
 Though thy soft words my heart beguile 
 
AND THE GREEN LEAVES FLUTTER ABOVE MY HEAD. 
 
 Haste! to the wild-woods, hie 
 Where the dew-drops trembhng he 
 And the low winds gently sigh. 
 
 There rove the free-birds blest. 
 
 Or safe in their downy nest 
 
 Under Heaven's own wing they rest. 
 
 There live the branches green. 
 And flowers no eye hath seen. 
 Nor foot of man has been. 
 
 Sit by the clear cool spring 
 Where trees their fresh leaves fling. 
 With soft waves murmuring. 
 
 On the old moss-grown seat. 
 Smoothed by the fairies' feet, 
 Watching the sun-cloud's fleet. 
 
 Safe in that sheltered spot 
 Life and its cares forgot 
 Leave me! ah leave me not. 
 
TO MISS 
 
 Gay smiles of youth and mischief play 
 
 Around her parted lips. 
 Whose pearls and coral, lovers say 
 
 A sea nymph's gems echpse. 
 
 Her soft hair rests its shining braid 
 
 Upon a brow as fair. 
 As if the moon her beams had stayed 
 
 To glow in beauty there. 
 
 Her youthful form in stately grace 
 
 Moves gaily in the dance. 
 And well becomes the smiling face 
 
 Where thoughts in pleasure glance. 
 
TEAP.S. 
 
 Tears^ they are the blessed gift 
 To hearts o'ercome with grief. 
 
 Though shaken to its inmost core. 
 They yield at last relief. 
 
 ReUef from bitter thoughts of hfe. 
 From almost maddening pain. 
 
 From thoughts that eat into the heart 
 And press upon the brain. 
 
 Though weak and worn the body lies 
 
 Beneath its heavy woe. 
 Exhausted nature sleeps at last, 
 
 A future grief to know. 
 
 Though woe beside her pillow sits 
 To walie her on the morrow. 
 
 To-night at least the body rests 
 All free from earthly sorrow. 
 
THE STAFu SNOW. 
 
 The snow came down in starry flakes. 
 
 And glistening in the sun 
 Seemed like the wreaths bright angels wear. 
 
 By deeds immortal won. 
 
 And winding round their pure white brows 
 
 Shone in a starry crown. 
 Till by a thonght of doubtful birth. 
 
 From heaven they glittered down. 
 
 Unwinding from the beauteous heads 
 
 Of those who thus rebelled; 
 And more than mortal, he whose eyes 
 
 A purer sight beheld. 
 
THE FOREST FLOWER. 
 
 'O had -we some TDriglit little isle of our o-wn," &;c. 
 
 Mcore. 
 
 I SAW a brilliant dew-drop 
 In a bright and happy flower. 
 
 In the forest lone and pleasant. 
 At morning's earliest hour. 
 
 It trembled in the sunlight 
 That stole between the trees. 
 
 And glistened Uke a bird's eye 
 In summer's gentle breeze. 
 
 It was a lonely dew-drop. 
 But seemed so pretty there 
 
 Soft resting in the flowret. 
 No other blossom near; 
 
 And Uke this gentle flowret 
 Thy tender love for me, 
 
 I'll nestle in thy bosom 
 And have no love but thee. 
 14 
 
THEY ARE PASSING AV/AY. 
 
 "We have stre'wn the dust on the sunny l.rovr ' 
 
 Mrs. Remans. 
 
 Onk after one they are passing away. 
 
 Like the last faint gleams of the moonlight ray. 
 
 Pale, cold and silent, on earth they lie. 
 
 Till in darkness and gloom they are hid from the eye. 
 
 And the beams of the morning will brighten once more 
 The paths which the night-gloom had darkened before. 
 Its light will return, we will bless it again, 
 But dim are those eyes we must look for in vain. 
 
 They are gone — and forever, their home is above. 
 They revive in the warmth of their Father's love, 
 Where pain cannot come, nor the wicked molest. 
 They have passed to the place of the weary at rest. 
 
A SPRING DAY AFTER A SHOWER. 
 
 Forth! into the merry woods, 
 
 O how the pleasant air 
 Comes sweeping o'er the springing grass 
 
 And scatters rain-drops there. 
 
 And blossoms too fall down like snow. 
 
 And whiten and unfold. 
 As green leaves in the sunhght glow 
 
 Like emeralds set in gold. 
 
 And little birds come hopping by 
 
 Across the sprinkled green. 
 As if to bathe their dainty feet 
 
 Where nothing else had been. 
 
 And butterflies put on their plumes 
 
 To hold their merry court. 
 And haste along with rapid whirl 
 
 Each pleasant hour too short. 
 
152 A SPRING DAY AFTER A SHOWER. 
 
 And bees are humming on their way 
 
 And some are droning on. 
 Like idle and industrious men 
 
 And often nothing won. 
 
 The little streams fed by the rain, 
 
 A louder welcome make. 
 While all the happy insects join 
 
 To keep the earth awake. 
 
 For sleepmg all the winter through. 
 
 And dosing in the spring. 
 She just came forth in lazy mood 
 
 To hear the wild-birds sing. 
 
 But weary of her quiet hfe, 
 She prayed the sun to lend 
 
 His pleasant beams to warm her heart 
 Her stiffened joints to bend. 
 
 He sent his light and heat with glee 
 And then it warmed so, 
 • She threw her mantle off her back 
 Her robe of ermine snow. 
 
 And told the trees to make a shade 
 And bid the rain come down. 
 
 And now, she condescends to look 
 Abroad, without a frown. 
 
QUIET AND DEEP AS THE WAVELESS SEA. 
 
 Q,uiET and deep as the waveless sea. 
 His pure but passionate love for thee, 
 I knew by his tone and his beaming eye 
 The trembUng answer, when thou wert nigh 
 That his gentle heart could know no bUss 
 No lovelier hope, no dream like this, 
 I saw him gaze as if earth could hold 
 No form like thine, all else were cold. 
 Cold to his gaze as the desert plain 
 The weary wanderer shuns in pain. 
 The spell was there, though he knew it not 
 And all for thee was the world forgot. 
 He saw no smile, he heard no voice. 
 In thine alone did his heart rejoice. 
 I saw him wake from his bhssful dream 
 Too brightly fair did that vision seem, 
 I marked the change o'er his spirit wrought 
 The charm was gone, for he woke to thought, 
 14* 
 
1-54 QUIET AND DEEP AS THE WAVELESS SEA. 
 
 His eye grew dim and the smile was gone 
 And long he struggled yet still lived on, 
 The dart was sped to his yielding breast 
 And his wounded spirit sunk to rest; 
 He laid his hand in such mute despair 
 On his bleeding heart — I saw it there. 
 And cold as the hand of death it lay 
 For death was there, that we could not stay, 
 And the heaven that gave his soul so pure 
 Claimed it at last, from its earthly lure. 
 
YE LITTLE SIMPLE FLOWERS. 
 
 Ye little simple flowers that speak of God, 
 When in your quiet dells or open fields. 
 
 If ever on your beauteous heads I trod. 
 It seemed a sacrifice all nature yields. 
 
 And when a gentle breath of heaven would come 
 And bear your crushed sweetness to my sense, 
 
 I knew that though beneath the heavy loam, 
 A greater blessing would your leaves dispense — 
 
 A richer, more abundant life would show 
 
 On the renewal of thy gentle birth. 
 As hearts decay in mortal conflict slow. 
 
 And bodies wither into silent earth — 
 
 To spring again in beauty heavenly bright 
 Upon the better land in love secure. 
 
 And through the stillness of an earthly night 
 To bloom in colors fairer and more pure. 
 
156 YE LITTLE SIMPLE FLOWERS. 
 
 As mortal loves to death of hope decline. 
 
 Till through a faith by purer thoughts bestowed, 
 
 A better nature gives a life divine, 
 And promise of, at last, a blest abode. 
 
ANSWER TO A SERENADE INTERRUPTED BY A SHOWER. 
 
 SWEETLY came those thrilling sounds. 
 Upon the silent night. 
 
 And nature hid within the bounds 
 Of stillness, her delight. 
 
 But scarce the strain had ceased to swell. 
 
 The notes of love to flow. 
 Than winding from its magic spell 
 
 The breeze came soft and slow. 
 
 And then it breathed its latest sigh. 
 And all was hushed to sleep, 
 
 1 gazed upon the clouded sky, 
 
 I saw the heavens weep. 
 
 The heavens wept, the breezes sighed. 
 When those last notes were stealing 
 
 And echo sweetly as they died. 
 Gave out that soul's revealing. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF KAAToKILL TO THE 
 SPIRIT OF THE MEADOWS. 
 
 I HAVE a home above earth's toil. 
 
 The earliest flowers adorn its soil. 
 
 Protected on their grassy bed 
 
 By ancient trees, whose branches shed 
 
 A softened glory o'er the sky. 
 
 So radiant in its purity ; 
 
 And birds sing sweetly through the green 
 
 Of summer leaves, and though unseen 
 
 By mortal eyes, — so soft and clear 
 
 Their joyous songs, that listening near 
 
 The forest winds, their answer send 
 
 Through fluttering leaves which gently bend 
 
 Their graceful stems in quiet joy 
 
 And all sweet sounds to them decoy; 
 
 No discord here invades the rest 
 
 That circles round my eaglets' nest; 
 
 Nor living thing is seen to move 
 
 Upon the earth, where like a grove 
 
THE SPIRIT OF KAATSKILL. 159 
 
 Of clustering trees, the forests spread 
 
 Their shadow, as upon the dead — 
 
 Save where upon its brilHant way 
 
 Reflecting all the hues of day, 
 
 A noble river gaily flows. 
 
 As if the sun, that o'er it rose. 
 
 Had left his brightest day-beam there 
 
 To glitter in the morning airj 
 
 The rushing water's rapid flow 
 
 Is heard by all who dwell below. 
 
 As bounding on with power and pride. 
 
 Between its castled borders wide. 
 
 Yet seems in charmed gaze to lie 
 
 Beneath the heaven's glorious eye. 
 
 As distance gives repose so deep 
 
 The earth and waters seem to sleep. 
 
 While stately vessels coldly stand. 
 
 As if a wizard's magic wand 
 
 Were raised above each towering head. 
 
 And silence, motionless, were spread 
 
 Around the earth's wide glowing sphere. 
 
 As almost with the spell of fear. 
 
 And man in all his pride of power. 
 
 Lay hidden like a forest flower. 
 
 And proudly on the lofty tree 
 
 My eagle perches wildly free; 
 
 Then guiding slow his graceful wings. 
 
 Seems made for palaces and kings; 
 
160 THE SPIRIT OF KAATSKILL. 
 
 A speck above the distant land, 
 Too high an aim for mortal hand. 
 And white as is the crested wave. 
 Where solitary sea-birds lave. 
 
 * * * » # 
 
 When gathering clouds their wings unfold. 
 And war in my dominions hold. 
 When earth is hidden from my sight. 
 And all seems dark as veiled night, 
 I raise to Heaven my wondering eyes 
 To see those gorgeous visions rise. 
 The sky of soft serenest blue. 
 Adorned with every brilliant hue. 
 And smiling on the raging war 
 That spreads its glorious terror far; 
 For peace and beauty, storms and strife. 
 Are mingled in my mountain life. 
 
 My chariot is the thunder-cloud. 
 The winds my horses prancing loud. 
 As through the darkening space they dash. 
 And hasten to the forests' crash; 
 My golden reins, the hghtening's flame 
 - With which their fiery rage I tame. 
 
 As wreathed in chains of shining hue 
 They glitter through the deepening blue. 
 * * # * # 
 
 My palace is the vaulted sky. 
 More gorgeous in its majesty. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF KAATSKILL. 161 
 
 Than stately castles, built with hands. 
 In earth's most proud and favored lands; 
 Its pillars are the still white clouds 
 Where silently in changeful crowds. 
 Soft shapes of beauty meet my sight. 
 Apparelled in their robes of light, 
 Its portals are the opening day. 
 Through which the living sunbeams play 
 And shed their crimson glories round, 
 In waves of splendor to the ground; 
 And when bright day, in shadows drest 
 Of floating clouds has sought her rest. 
 The stars come glimmering mildly through 
 And mingle with the sunset hue. 
 While gliding on with graceful pride 
 Her fair companion by her side. 
 The summer moon looks kindly on 
 'Till every shade from Heaven is gone 
 And brightly glow in beaming light. 
 The deepest blue and softest white. 
 And planets from their distant throne 
 Appear in golden light, alone; 
 This noble palace thou shalt see. 
 And feel thy bondaged spirit free. 
 For earth and ocean are its base. 
 As high it stands in matchless grace. 
 
 15 
 
THE SPIRIT OF THE MEALOV/S TO 
 THE SPIRIT OF KAATSKILL. 
 
 Thou hast a glorious pillar high 
 Of wondrous might and majesty. 
 While humbly for my simple bed 
 My grassy carpet low I spread ; 
 Above the storm, thy haughty brow 
 Is raised, while all is calm below, 
 And tempests fierce around thee play 
 While peacefully I softly lay 
 As in my robes of emerald drest. 
 The sun comes forth to be my guest. 
 And gay-winged birds in cups of gold 
 Their morning feast, low twitt'ring hold 
 And look, with brightly glancing eyes 
 Within the little wells, that rise 
 Among the broad-leafed shady grass. 
 As if they sought a mirrored glass. 
 To catch from nature's truthful face 
 A glance of their reflected grace. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF THE MEADOWS. 163 
 
 Gay butterflies in mossy dells 
 Sit proudly in their gilded cells. 
 Or changing in their fitful flight. 
 From stem to leaf, they gently light 
 And ring each gay and flowery bell 
 Whose music low and fragrance tell 
 The earliest and the latest hour. 
 For birds to leave or seek their bower; 
 When winter comes with early snows. 
 At morning's dawn, at evening's close, 
 I wrap my ermined cloak around 
 And sleep upon my peaceful ground. 
 No noisy step, or stormy voice 
 Can harm me ere the spring rejoice. 
 Whose gladsome smile I welcome give. 
 And in its youth and freshness live. 
 
CHRISTMAS. 
 
 In all your joy, O breathe a prayer, 
 Let memory of the dead be there. 
 And when the wine-cup sparkles high. 
 Forget not those who once were nigh. 
 Their welcome kind and heart-felt love 
 For many who around thee move ; 
 The smiles now gone forever here 
 Remember with one mournful tear. 
 Think once of those whose bodies rest 
 Beneath earth's cold and heavy breast. 
 The kindly hearts and generous hand 
 Who loved to join the cheerful band ; 
 Their voices come upon my ear. 
 And now their deep-loved tones I hear. 
 They speak of hope, of joy they breathe 
 A heavenly crown which angels wreathe. 
 They gaze upon the loved on earth. 
 Then give not all thy thoughts to mirth. 
 
WE MEET AGAIN. 
 
 We meet again within the hall ; 
 
 Beneath the branching tree, 
 We wander by the rocky fall, 
 
 And o'er the verdant lea. 
 
 We meet again and those bright days 
 
 Seem even brighter now. 
 While glowing with reflected light 
 
 On every lip and brow. 
 
 The moonbeams glancing o'er yon wave 
 
 Leave but a colder chill. 
 Till sunlight comes, that watery grave 
 
 With life and warmth to fill. 
 
 So in this cold and changeful strife, 
 Hearts that have faintly throbbed. 
 
 Throw on the flowing waves of life 
 The light they only robbed. 
 
 15* 
 
166 WE 3IEET AGAIN. 
 
 Bul in the sunbright glance of love 
 The warmth of truth we feel, 
 
 Soft gleaming in those eyes that prove 
 The faith their beams reveal. 
 
 Bright hours how swiftly as they rolled 
 We caught their briUiant hue, 
 
 Remembering them, we now behold 
 The smiles so loved and true! 
 
SHADOWS STEAL AROUND US. 
 
 Shadows steal around us 
 And o'er our pathway glide. 
 
 They cross our steps in sunlight 
 Then seem in gloom to hide. 
 
 So o'er our dearest pleasures, 
 A thought wiU often bring 
 
 Past hopes that used to hnger. 
 Which now their shadows fling. 
 
 And in the sunny morning 
 Of youth's delusive dream. 
 
 Light clouds may shade the Heaven 
 Of life's too brilliant beam. 
 
 But O forget them never, 
 A warning from them take. 
 
 And look to earth no longer 
 But from thy pleasure wake. 
 
168 SHADOWS STEAL AROUND US. 
 
 From dreams that fade and vanish 
 O send thy prayer above. 
 
 Breathe forth thy soul to Heaven, 
 There is no truer love. 
 
O COME NOT NEAR. 
 
 COME not near my soul is sad. 
 Mine eyes are dim with tears. 
 
 And thoughts are crowding on my soul, 
 The hopes of former years. 
 
 Let me forget I am alone. 
 
 And with dim shadows dwell. 
 The once loved forms, whose pleasant tones 
 
 No others can dispel. 
 
 1 wish to dream and not to grieve. 
 
 And feel my heart awake 
 To such sweet sounds, that other words 
 A fainter meaning take. 
 
THE DIAMOND. 
 
 Bright gem of the earth-cave 
 So glittering and clear. 
 
 How had'st thou thy birth-place 
 In cavern so drear? 
 
 When earth was in chaos. 
 Where dwelled'st thou then? 
 
 not in the dimness 
 
 That gloomed in that den! 
 
 Did'st dwell in the ocean 
 Where bright billows flowed. 
 
 As o'er thy pure briUiance 
 Their own lustre glowed? 
 
 1 think thee a tear-drop 
 
 From truth's angel eye. 
 In pity to mortals 
 Wept down from the sky. 
 
THE DIAMOND. 171 
 
 For words falsely spoken 
 
 Hopes ending in pain. 
 For vows lightly severed 
 
 Deceitful and vain. 
 
 The cold earth received thee 
 
 So sparkling and clear; 
 Tho' an angel has wept thee. 
 
 Like ice is the tear. 
 
 THE END. 
 
61 
 

 
 
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