Our lives since early infancy

Had flowed as rills together flow,

And now to hide her thought from me
Was bitterer than to tell its woe.

One night, when clouds with anguish black
A tempest in her bosom woke,
She crushed the bitter tear-drops back,

And told me that her heart was broke!

I learned it when the autumn hours

With wailing wind around us sighed'Twas summer when her love's young flowers Burst into glorious life, and died; No-now can I remember well,

'Twas the soft month of sun and shower; A thousand times I've heard her tell

The season, and the very hour:

For now,

whene'er the tear-drops start,
As if to ease its throbbing pain,
She leans her head upon my heart,
And tells the very tale again.

'Tis something of a moon, that beamed
Upon her weak and trembling form,
And one beside, on whom she leaned,
That scarce had stronger heart or arm-
Of souls united there until

Death the last ties of life shall part,
And a fond kiss whose rapturous thrill
Still vibrates softly in her heart.

It is an era strange, yet sweet,

Which every woman's thought has known, When first her young heart learns to beat To the soft music of a tone

That era when she first begins

To know what love alone can teach, That there are hidden depths within, Which friendship never yet could reach: And all earth has of bitter woe,

Is light beside her helpless doom,
Who sees love's first sweet star below
Fade slowly till it sets in gloom :
There may be heavier grief to move
The heart that mourns an idol dead,

But one who weeps a living love
Has surely little left to dread.

I cannot tell why love so true

As theirs should only end in gloomSome mystery that I never knew

Was woven darkly with their doom:
I only know their dream was vain,

And that they woke to find it past,
And when by chance they met again,
It was not as they parted last.
His was not faith that lightly dies,
For truth and love as clearly shono
In the blue heaven of his soft eyes,

As the dark midnight of her own:
And therefore Heaven alone can tell
What are his living visions now;
But hers-the eye can read too well
The language written on her brow.

In the soft twilight, dim and sweet

Once, watching by the lattice pane, She listened to his coming feet,

For whom she never looked in vain: Then hope shone brightly on her brow, That had not learned its after fearsAlas! she cannot sit there now,

But that her dark eyes fill with tears! And every woodland pathway dim,

And bower of roses cold and sweet,
That speak of vanished days and him,
Are spots forbidden to her feet.
No thought within her bosom stirs,

But wakes some feeling dark and dread;
God keep thee from a doom like hers-
Of living when the hopes are dead!

SEASONS FOR LOVING.

Dost thou idly ask to hear

At what gentle seasons Nymphs relent, when lovers near

Press the tenderest reasons? Ah, they give their faith too oft To the careless wooer ;

Maiden's hearts are always soft

Would that men's hearts were truer!

Woo the fair one, when around
Early birds are singing;
When o'er the fragrant ground,
Early flowers are springing;

When, the brook-side, bank, and grove,
All with blossom laden,

Shine with beauty-breathe of love

Woo the timid maiden.

Woo her, when, with rosy blush,
Summer eve is sinking;
When on rills, that softly gush,
Stars are softly winking;

When, through boughs that knit the bower,
Moonlight gleams are stealing;

Woo her, till the gentle hour
Wakes a gentler feeling.

Woo her, when Autumnal dyes
Tinge the woody mountain;
When the drooping foliage lies,
In half the choked fountain;
Let the scene, that tells how fast
Youth is passing over,

Warn her, ere the bloom is past,
To secure her lover.

Woo her, when the north winds call
At the lattice nightly;
When, within the cheerful hall,
Blaze the faggots brightly;
While the wintry tempests round

Sweep the landscapes hoary,
Sweeter in her ear shall sound

Love's delightful story.

CANST THOU FORGET?

CANST thou forget, beloved, our first awaking
From out the shadowy calms of doubts and dreams,
To know Love's perfect sunlight round us breaking,
Bathing our beings in its gorgeous gleams-

Canst thou forget?

A sky of rose and gold was o'er us glowing,

Around us was the morning breath of May;
Then met our soul-tides, thence together flowing,

Then kissed our thought-waves, mingling on their way:
Canst thou forget?

Canst thou forget when first thy loving fingers

Laid gently back the locks upon my brow?
Ah, to my woman's thought that touch still lingers,
And softly glides along my forehead now!
Canst thou forget?

Canst thou forget when every twilight tender,
'Mid dews and sweets, beheld our slow steps rove,
And when the nights which came in starry splendour,
Seemed dim and pallid to our heaven of love?

Canst thou forget?

Canst thou forget the child-like heart outpouring
Of her whose fond faith knew no faltering fears?
The lashes drooped to veil her eyes adoring,
Her speaking silence, and her blissful tears?

Canst thou forget?

Canst thou forget the last most mournful meeting,
The trembling form clasped to thine anguished breast,
The heart against thine own, now wildly beating,
Now fluttering faint, grief-wrung, and fear oppressed?
Canst thou forget?

Canst thou forget, though all Love's spells be broken,
The wild farewell which rent our souls apart?
And that last gift, Affection's holiest token,
The severed tress, which lay upon thy heart-

Canst thou forget?

Canst thou forget, beloved one- comes there never
The angel of sweet visions to thy rest?

Brings she not back the fond hopes fled for ever,

While one lost name thrills through thy sleeping breast-
Canst thou forget?

LOVE AND FAME.

It had passed in all its grandeur, that sounding summer shower
Had paid its pearly tribute to each fair expectant flower,
And while a thousand sparklers danced lightly on the spray,
Close folded to a rosebud's heart one tiny rain-drop lay.

Throughout each fevered petal had the heaven-brought fresh

ness gone,

They had mingled dew and fragrance till their very souls were

one;

The bud its love in perfume breathed, till its pure and starry

guest

Grew glowing as the life-hue of the lips it fondly pressed.

He dreamed away the hours with her, his gentle bride and fair,
No thought filled his young spirit, but to dwell for ever there,
While ever bending wakefully, the bud a fond watch kept,
For fear the envious zephyrs might steal him as he slept.

But forth from out his tent of clouds in burnished armour bright,

The conquering sun came proudly in the glory of his might, And, like some grand enchanter, resumed his wand of power, And shed the splendour of his smile on lakes, and tree and flower.

Then, peering through the shadowy leaves, the rain-drop marked on high,

A many-hued triumphal arch span all the eastern sky

He saw his glittering comrades all wing their joyous flight, And stand-a glorious brotherhood-to form that bow of light!

Aspiring thoughts his spirit thrilled-"Oh, let me join them, love!

I'll set thy beauty's impress on yon bright arch above,

And, as a world's admiring gaze is raised to iris fair,

'Twill deem my own dear rosebud's tint the loveliest colour there!"

The gentle bud released her clasp-swift as a thought he flew, And brightly 'mid that glorious band he soon was glowing too— All quivering with delight to feel that she, his rosebud bride, Was gazing, with a swelling heart, on this, this hour of pride!

But the shadowy night came down at last-the glittering bow was gone,

One little hour of triumph was all the drop had won :

He had lost the warm. and tender glow, his distant bud-love's

hue,

And he sought her sadly sorrowing-a tear-dimmed star of dew.