Of a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the leaves of the Judgment My steps are nightly driven, And open thy chamber door, And the leaves of the Judgment BAYARD TAYLOR. 'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. IS the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh! I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, Since the lovely are sleeping, Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from love's shining circle The gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither'd, And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone? THOMAS Moore. GENTLEST GIRL. ENTLEST girl, Thou wert a bright creation of my thought, In earliest childhood-and my seeking soul Wander'd ill-satisfied, till one blest day Thine image pass'd athwart it-thou wert then A young and happy child, sprightly as life; Yet not so bright or beautiful as that Mine inward vision;-but a whispering voice Said softly-This is she whom thou didst choose; For thee I rear'd, because all beautiful THE PARTING KISS. NE kind wish before we part, Yet, yet weep not so, my love, Let me kiss that falling tear; All my soul will still be here. All my soul, and all my heart, And every wish shall pant for you; One kind kiss, then, ere we part, Drop a tear, and bid adieu. ROBERT DODsley. NO HEART WITHOUT ITS MATE. 'HE bard has sung, God never form'd a soul Without its own peculiar mate, to meet Its wandering half, when ripe to crown the whole Bright plan of bliss, most heavenly, most complete! But thousand evil things there are that hate To look on happiness: these hurt, impede, And, leagued with time, space, circumstance and fate, Keep kindred heart from heart, to pine, and pant, and bleed. And as the dove to far Palmyra flying From where her native founts of Antioch beam, Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream; So many a soul, o'er life's dreary desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaff'd, Suffers, recoils, then, thirsty, and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught. MARIA BROOKS. ON AN OLD WEDDING-RING THE DEVICE -Two hearts united. As were the sterling hearts of old. I like it-for it wafts me back, Far, far along the stream of time, To other men, and other days, The men and days of deeds sublime. But most I like it, as it tells The tale of well-requited love; Though she, unpitying, long denied, He won his "fair and blooming bride."- How, till the appointed day arrived, They stood, in all their youthful pride, And spoke those words, and vow'd those vows, Which bind the husband to his bride: Pledge of devoted faithfulness, Of heartfelt, holy love, the token: What varied feelings round it cling !-For these, I like that ancient ring. 66 GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE. EDWIN AND ANGELINA. - URN, gentle hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale For here forlorn and lost I tread, "Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, Here, to the houseless child of want, And though my portion is but scant, Then turn to-night, and freely share My rushy couch and frugal fare, No flocks that range the valley free, But from the mountain's grassy side, A scrip, with herbs and fruits supplied, Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; Soft, as the dew from heaven descends, The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wilderness obscure, Around, in sympathetic mirth, But nothing could a charm impart, To soothe the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rising cares the hermit spied, With answering care opprest: "And whence, unhappy youth," he cried, "The sorrows of thy breast? From better habitations spurn'd, Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, Alas! the joys that fortune brings And those who prize the paltry things And what is friendship but a name : And love is still an emptier sound, On earth unseen, or only found For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush, Surprised, he sees new beauties rise, The bashful look, the rising breast, “And ah! forgive a stranger rude, But let a maid thy pity share, My father lived beside the Tyne, And all his wealth was mark'd as mine; He had but only me. To win me from his tender arms, Unnumber'd suitors came; Who praised me for imputed charms, Each hour a mercenary crowd In humblest, simplest habit clad, The blossom opening to the day, To emulate his mind. The dew, the blossoms of the tree, For still I tried each fickle art, And while his passion touch'd my heart Till quite dejected with my scorn, And sought a solitude forlorn, But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And there, forlorn, despairing, hid, "Forbid it, Heaven!" the hermit cried, And clasp'd her to his breast: The wondering fair one turn'd to chide : 'Twas Edwin's self that prest! "Turn, Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to see Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And every care resign; My life my all that's mine? No, never from this hour to part, OLIVER GOLDSMIT ALL FOR LOVE. TALK not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-andtwenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty. What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? 'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled : LORD BYRON. LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY. VER the mountains, And under the waves, Over the fountains, And under the graves, Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie, For the receipt of a fly, If Love come he will enter, If that he were hidden, And all men that are, Were strictly forbidden That place to declare : Would come and bring him tidings, And direct him the way. If the earth should part him, If the seas should o'erthwart him, And will find out the way. There is no striving To cross his intent, There is no contriving His plots to prevent; The letter his heart's vows stating, No closed gates delay From the hand that is waiting; Love will find out the way. WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS TOGETHER. E have been friends together, W In sunshine and in shade ; Since first beneath the chestnut trees But coldness dwells within thy heart- We have laugh'd at little jests; Shall a light word part us now? We have been sad together We have wept, with bitter tears, O'er the grass-grown graves, where slumber'd CAROLINE ELIZABETH NORTON. SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. F all the girls that are so smart, Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry 'em, Her mother she sells laces long, To such as please to buy 'em : Of all the days that's in the week, Y sheep I neglected, I broke my sheep-hook, Oh, what had my youth with ambition to do? And I'll wander from love and Amynta no more. Alas! 'tis too late at thy feet to repine; BEN BOLT. Do you mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt, The tree you would seek in vain; And where once the lords of the forest waved, And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt, And of all the boys who were schoolmates then, There is change in the things I loved, Ben Bolt, THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. LUCY. HE dwelt among the untrodden ways, A maid whom there were none to praise, A violet by a mossy stone, Half hidden from the eye; Fair as a star when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know But she is in her grave, and oh, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. ON'T you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt? Who wept with delight when you gave her a And trembled with fear at your frown? In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner obscure and alone, They have fitted a slab of the granite so grey, And Alice lies under the stone. Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt, Which stood at the foot of the hill, Together we've lain in the noonday shade, And listen'd to Appleton's mill: The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt, The rafters have tumbled in, And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze, Has follow'd the olden din. |