Now, hey, for sighs and sugar words,
Wi' kisses not a few-

O but this warld's a paradise
When lovers they prove true.

THE MAIDEN'S DREAM.

"Thrice hallowed be that dawn of love when the maiden's cheek still blushes at the conscious sweetness of her own innocent thoughts."— Jean Paul.

ASK not if she loves, but look,
In the blue depths of her eye,
Where the maiden's spirit teems
Traced in happy dreams to lie..

All the blisses of her dream,

All she may not, must not speak,
Read them in her clouded eye,

Read them on her conscious cheek.

See that cheek of virgin snow

Damasked with love's rosy bloom;
Mark the lambent thoughts that glow
Mid her blue eye's tender gloom.

As if in a cool, deep well,

Veiled by shadows of the night,
Slanting through, a starbeam fell,
Flings a shadow o'er her brow.

Hath her love-illumined soul
Raised the veil of coming years-
Read upon life's mystic scroll
Its doom of agony and tears?

Tears of tender sadness fall
From her soft and lovelit eye,
As the night dews heavily

Fall from summer's cloudless sky:

Still she sitteth coyly drooping
Her white lids in virgin pride,

Like a languid lily stooping

Low her folded blooms to hide..

Starting now in soft surprise
From the tangled web of thought,
Lo, her heart a captive lies,

In its own sweet fancies caught.

Ah! bethink thee, maiden, yet,
Ere to passion's doom betrayed;
Hearts where Love his seal has set,
Sorrow's fiercest pangs invade.

Let that young heart slumber still,
Like a bird within its nest;
Life can ne'er its dreams fulfil-
Love but yield thee long unrest.

Ah! in vain the dovelet tries

To break the web of tender thought

The little heart a captive lies,

In its own sweet fancies caught.

WHEN TIME HATH BEREFT THEE.

WHEN time hath bereft thee of charms now divine,
And youth shall have left thee, nor beauty be thine;
When the roses shall vanish that circle thee now,

And the thorn thou wouldst banish shall press on thy brow,
In the hour of thy sadness thou'lt think upon me.
But the thought shall be madness, deceiver, to thee.

When he who could turn thee from virtue and fame,
Shall leave thee, and spurn thee, to sorrow and shame;
When by him, thus requited, thy brain shall be stung,
Thy hopes shall be blighted, thy bosom be wrung,
In the depth of thy sadness, thou'lt think then on me,
But that thought shall be madness, deceiver, to thee.

BELIEVE ME TRUE.

O YES, believe me true,

Though falsehood's tongue our loves would sever, The world must change ere I from you,

And every pulse be cold for ever.

N

O yes, believe, believe me true,

Though friends-to part us may endeavour,
The breast, fond breast, that throbs for you,
Can leave thee, dearest, leave thee never.
O then believe, believe me true,

Let come what may, I'll love thee ever;
While life is mine I live for you,

And nought but death our hearts can sever.

MY HEART IS WITH THEE.

BELOVED of my soul, though this moment is bringing
The feeling of sad disappointment to me,

Still hope, smiling hope, in my bosom is springing,
Still absent or present, my heart is with thee;
In crowds, in seclusions, thou still art before me,
Each hour in the day, thy loved image I see,
And the slumber of night to thy presence restores me,
For then I am blest with dear visions of thee.
Though destiny, love, may compel us to sever,

Our thoughts are not bound by the cruel decree,
My fond faithful beart shall be with thee for ever,
And cling with unceasing devotion to thee.
And even when life's vital pulse is retreating,
Think, think not the heart can a wanderer be,
Its last dying throb, and its last feeble beating,
Shall sigh forth its ardent affections for thee.

LOVE DEAD.

The lady sent him an image of Cupid, one wing veiling his face. He was pleased thereat, thinking it to be Love sleeping, and betoken the tenderness of the sentiment. He looked again, and saw it was Love dead and laid upon his bier.

THIS morn with trembling I awoke,

Just as the dawn my slumber broke :

Flapping came a heavy wing sounding pinions o'er my head,
Beating down the blessed air with a weight of chilling dread;
Felt I then the presence of a doom

That an Evil occupied the room:
And I dared not round the bower,
Chilly in the greyish dawning-
Dared not face the evil power,

With its voice of inward warning.

Vain with weakness we may palter

Vainly may the fond heart falter :

Came there then upon my soul, drooping down like leaden weight,

Burning pang or freezing pang, which I know not, 'twas so great!

Life hath its moments black unnumbered,

I knew not if mine eyes had slumbered,
Yet I little thought such pain

Ever to have known again:

Love dies, too, when Faith is dead-
Yesternight Faith perished!

I knew that love could ever change

That Love should die seems yet more strange;

Lifting up the downy veil, screening Love within my heart,
Beating there as beat my pulse, moving like myself a part-
I had kept him cherished there so deep,
Heart-rocked kept him in his balmy sleep,
That till now I never knew

How his fibres round me grew-
Could not know how deep the sorrow
Where Hope bringeth no to-morrow.

I struggled, knowing we must part;
I grieved to lift him from my heart:

Grieving much and struggling much, forth I brought him sorrowing;

Drooping hung his fainting head, all adown his dainty wing! Shrieked I with a wild and dark surprise,

For I saw the marble in Love's eyes;

Yet I hoped his soul would wait

As he oft had waited there,

Hovering, though at heaven's gate

Could he leave me to despair?

Unfolded they the crystal door,

Where Love shall languish never more.

Weeping Love, thy days are o'er, Lo! I lay thee on thy bier, Wiping thus from thy dead cheek every vestige of a tear.

Love has perished: hist, bist, how they tell,

Beating pulse of mine, his funeral knell!

Love is dead-ay, dead and gone!

Why should I be living on ?—

Why be in this chamber sitting,

With but phantoms round me flitting?

SHE LOVED, AND LOVED SINCERELY.

THE tear that pearled my Clara's cheek,
And dewed the rose of beauty,
In glist'ning rapture seemed to speak,
How high it priz'd the duty;

And, ere the drop dissolved away,
From where it clung so dearly,
The matchless maid was heard to say,
She loved, and loved sincerely.

The blush that crimsoned Clara's face,
Her very look adorning,

Gave softening sweetness to each grace,
Like sun-tints of the morning!

But sweeter to the trembling heart,
That beats for her so dearly,
To hear my Clara's tongue impart-
She loved, and loved sincerely.

THE WIFE.

I COULD have stemmed misfortune's tide,
And borne the rich one's sneer,
Have braved the haughty glance of pride,
Nor shed a single tear;

I could have smiled on every blow

From life's full quiver thrown,

While I might gaze on thee, and know
I should not be "alone."

I could-I think I could have brooked,
E'en for a time that thou

Upon my fading face hadst looked
With less of love than now,
For then I should at least have felt
The sweet hope still my own
To win thee back, and, whilst I dwelt
On earth, not been "alone."

But thus to see, from day to day,

Thy brightening eye and cheek," And watch thy life-sands waste away, Unnumbered, slowly, meek;