There I wove for her love-ballads, such as lover only weaves, Till she sighed and grieved, as only mild and loving maiden grieves; And to hide her tears she stooped to glean the violets from the leaves, 'mid the oriental sheaves. DOWN behind the hidden village, As of old sweet Ruth went gleaning fringed around with hazel brake, (Like a holy hermit dreaming, half asleep and half awake, One who loveth the sweet quiet for the happy quiet's sake,) Dozing, murmuring in its visions, lay the heaven-enamored lake. And within a dell, where shadows When the sinking sun of August, growing large in the decline, Shot his arrows long and golden through the maple and the pine; And the russet-thrush fled singing from the alder to the vine, While the cat-bird in the hazel gave its melancholy whine; And the little squirrel chattered, peer- There I walked beside fair Inez, and the sunshine through my soul. And her fairy feet that pressed the leaves, a pleasant music made, And they dimpled the sweet beds of moss with blossoms thick inlaid: Down we walked beside the lakelet :gazing deep into her eye, There I told her all my passion! With a sudden blush and sigh, Turning half away with look askant, she only made reply, "How deep within the water glows the happy evening sky!" Then I asked her if she loved me, and our hands met each in each, And the dainty, sighing ripples seemed to listen up the reach; While thus slowly with a hazel wand she wrote along the beach, "Love, like the sky, lies deepest ere the heart is stirred to speech." Thus I gained the love of Inez-thus SUNLIGHT ON THE THRESH- DEAR Mary, I remember yet The day when first we rode together, Through groves where grew the violet, For it was in the Maying weather. And I remember how the woods Were filled with love's delightful chorus ; snow, And the midnight lamp is burning low, And the fading embers mildly glow In their bed of ashes soft and deep; That flows from the holy land of Say on, old clock-I love you well, For your silver chime, and the truths you tell, Your every stroke is but the knell Of hope, or sorrow buried deep; Say on but only let me hear The sound most sweet to my listening ear, The child and the mother breathing clear Within the harvest-fields of Sleep. Thou watchman, on thy lonely round, And where the waving woodland I thank thee for that warning sound; The clarion cock and the baying hound Not less their dreary vigils keep; Still hearkening, I will love you all, While in each silent interval I hear those dear breasts rise and fall Upon the airy tide of Sleep. Old world, on time's benighted stream Sweep down till the stars of morning beam From orient shores-nor break the dream That calms my love to pleasure deep; Roll on, and give my Bud and Rose The fulness of thy best repose, The blessedness which only flows Along the silent realms of Sleep. THE LIGHT OF OUR HOME. OH, thou whose beauty on us beams With glimpses of celestial light; Thou halo of our waking dreams, And early star that crown'st our night; Thy light is magic where it falls; To thee the deepest shadow yields; Thou bring'st unto these dreary halls The lustre of the summer fields. There is a freedom in thy looks To make the prisoned heart rejoice; In thy blue eyes I see the brooks, And hear their music in thy voice. And every sweetest bird that sings Hath poured a charm upon thy tongue; And where the bee enamored clings, There surely thou in love hast clung: For when I hear thy laughter free, And see thy morning-lighted hair, As in a dream at once I see Fair upland realms and valleys fair. I see thy feet empearled with dews, The violet's and the lily's loss; THE TWO DOVES. WHEN the Spring's delightful store Brought the bluebirds to our bowers, And the poplar at the door Shook the fragrance from its flowers, Then there came two wedded doves, And they built among the limbs, And the murmur of their loves Fell like mellow, distant hymns; There, until the Spring had flown, Did they sit and sing alone, In the broad and flowery branches. With the scented Summer breeze Of enchanted realms of sound! Prophesied among the leaves; Therefore till the Summer's flown Sit and sing, but not alone, In the broad and flowery branches.” Then the harvest came and went, And the Autumn marshalled down All his host, and spread his tent Over fields and forests brown; Then the doves, one evening, hied To their old accustomed nest; One went up, but drooped and died, With an arrow in its breastDied and dropped; while there, alone, Sat the other, making moan, In the broad and withering branches. There it sat and mourned its mate, With a never-ending moan, Till I thought perchance its fate Was prophetic of my own: And at each lament I heard, How the tears sprang to my eyes! O! I could have clasped the bird, And communed with it in sighs; But it drooped-and with a moan, Closed its eyes, and there, alone, Dropped from out the leafless branches. I beheld it on the ground, Press the brown leaves, cold and And my brain went round and round, Earth has claimed the fallen dove- SOLEMN VOICES. I HEARD from out the dreary realms of Sorrow The various tongues of Woe:One said, "Is there a hope in the to-morrow?" And many answered, "No!" And they arose and mingled their loud voices, And cried in bitter breath, "In all our joys the Past alone rejoices, There is no joy but Death. "Oh dreadful Past, beyond thy midnight portal Thou hast usurped our peace; And if the angel Memory bé immortal, When shall this anguish cease?" And suddenly within the darkened distance The solemn Past replied, "In my domains your joys have no existence, Your hopes they have not died! "Nought comes to me except those ghosts detested, Phantoms of Wrong and Pain; But whatsoe'er Affection hath invested, Th' eternal years retain. "Then stand no more with looks and souls dejected, To woo and win despair; The joys ye mourn the Future hath collected, Your hopes are gathered there. "And as the dew which leaves the morning flowers Augments the after rain,And as the blooms which fall from summer bowers Are multiplied again, |
