Lady, like thine, my visions cling
To the dear shrine of buried years;
The past, the past! it is too bright,
Too deeply beautiful for tears;
We have been bless'd; though life is made
A tear, a silence, and a shade,
And years have left the vacant breast
To loneliness-we have been bless'd!.
Those still, those soft, those summer eyes,
When by our favourite stream we stood,
And watch'd our mingling shadows there,
Soft-pictured in the deep-blue-flood,
Seem'd one enchantment. Ol we felt,
As there, at love's pure shrine, we knelt,.
That life was sweet, and all its hours.
A glorious dream of love and flowers.
And still 'tis sweet. Our hopes went by
Like sounds upon the unbroken sea;
Yet memory wings the spirit back
To deep, undying melody;
And still, around her early shrine,
Fresh flowers their dewy chaplets twine,
Young Love his brightest garlands wreathes,.
And Eden's richest incense breathes.
Our hopes are flown-yet parted hours,
Still in the depths of memory lie,
Like night-gems in the silent blue
Of summer's deep and brilliant sky;
And Love's bright flashes seem again.
To fall upon the glowing chain
Of our existence. Can it be.
That all is but a mockery?
Lady, adieu I to other climes
I go, from joy, and hope, and thee;
A weed on Time's dark waters thrown,.
A wreck on life's wild-heaving sea;
I go; but O, the past, the past!.
Its spell is o'er my being cast,-
And still, to Love's remember'd eves,
With all but hope, my spirit cleaves.
Adieu! adieu! My farewell words
Are on my lyre, and their wild flow
Is faintly dying on the chords,
Broken and tuneless. Be it so!
Thy name- may it never swell
My strain again-yet long 'twill dwell
Shrined in my heart, unbreathed, unspoken-
A treasured word-a cherish'd token.
THE LAST INTERVIEW.
HERE, in this lonely bower where first I won thee,
I come, beloved, beneath the moon's pale ray,
To gaze once more through struggling tears upon thee,
And then to bear my broken heart away.
I dare not linger near thee as a brother,
I feel my burning heart would still be thine;
How could I hope my passionate thoughts to smother,
While yielding all the sweetness to another,
That should be mine!
But Fate hath willed it; the decree is spoken;
Now life may lengthen out its weary chain;
For, reft of thee, its loveliest links are broken;
May we but clasp them all in heaven again!
Yes, thou wilt there be mine: in yon blue heaven
There are sweet meetings of the pure and fond;
Oh! joys unspeakable to such are given,
When the sweet ties of love, that here are riven,
Unite beyond.
A glorious charm from heaven thou dost inherit;
The gift of angels unto thee belongs;
Then breathe thy love in music, that thy spirit
May whisper to me thro' thine own sweet songs;
And though my coming life may soon resemble
The desert spots through which my steps will flee,
Though round thee then wild worshippers assemble,
My heart will triumph if thine own but tremble
Still true to me.
Yet, not when on our bower the light reposes
In golden glory, wilt thou sigh for me-
Not when the young bee sucks the crimson roses,
And the far sunbeams tremble o'er the sea;
But when at tender eve the heart grows fonder,
And the full soul with pensive love is fraught,
Then with wet lids o'er these sweet paths thou'lt wander,
And, thrilled with love, upon my memory ponder
With tender thought.
And when at times thy birdlike voice entrances
The listening throng with some enchanting lay,
If I am near thee, let thy heavenly glances
One gentle message to my heart convey;
I ask but this—a happier one has taken
From my long life the charm that made it dear;
I ask but this, and promise thee unshaken
To meet that look of love: but oh, 'twill waken
Such raptures here!
And now farewell! farewell! I dare not lengthen
These sweet, sad moments out; to gaze on thee
Is bliss indeed, yet it but serves to strengthen
The love that now amounts to agony;
This is our last farewell, our last fond meeting;
The world is wide and we must dwell apart;
My spirit gives thee, now, its last wild greeting,
With lip to lip, while pulse to pulse is beating.
And heart to heart.
Farewell! farewell! our dream of bliss is over-
All, save the memory of our plighted love;
I now must yield thee to thy happier lover,
Yet, oh remember, thou art mine above!
'Tis a sweet thought, and, when by distance parted,
'Twill lie upon our hearts a holy spell;
But the sad tears beneath thy lids have started,
And I-alas! we both are broken-hearted-
Dearest, farewell!
I THINK of thee when morning springs
From sleep, with plumage bathed in dew,
And, like a young bird, lifts her wings
Of gladness on the welkin blue.
And when, at noon, the breath of love
O'er flower and stream is wandering free,
And sent in music from the grove,
I think of thee-I think of thee.
I think of thee, when, soft and wide,
The evening spreads her robes of light,
And, like a young and timid bride,
Sits blushing in the arms of night.
And when the moon's sweet crescent springs
In light o'er heaven's deep, waveless sea,
And stars are forth, like blessed things,
I think of thee-I think of thee.
I think of thee;-that eye of flame,
Those tresses, falling bright and free,
That brow, where "Beauty writes her name,"
I think of thee-I think of thee.
AFAR from thee! the morning breaks,
But morning brings no joy to me;
Alas! my spirit only wakes
To know I am afar from thee.
In dreams I saw thy blessed face,
And thou wer't nestled on my breast;
In dreams I saw thy fond embrace,
And to my own thy heart was press'd.
Afar from thee! 'tis solitude!
Though smiling crowds around me be,
The kind, the beautiful, the good,
For I can only think of thee;
Of thee, the kindest, loveliest, best,
My earliest and my only one!
Without thee I am all unbless'd,
And wholly bless'd with thee alone.
Afar from thee! the words of praise
My listless ear unheeded greet;
What sweetest seem'd, in better days,
Without thee seems no longer sweet.
The dearest joy fame can bestow
Is in thy moisten'd eye to see,
And in thy cheek's unusual glow,
Thou deem'st me not unworthy thee.
Afar from thee! the night is come,
But slumbers from my pillow flee!
Oh, who can rest so far from home?
And my heart's home is, love, with thee.
I kneel me down in silent prayer,
And then I know that thou art nigh:
For GOD, who seeth everywhere,
Bends on us both his watchful eye.
Together, in his loved embrace,
No distance can our hearts divide!
Forgotten quite the mediate space,
I kneel thy kneeling form beside.
My tranquil frame then sinks to sleep,
But soars the spirit far and free;
Oh, welcome be night's slumbers deep,
For then, sweet love, I am with thee.
LOVE'S MEMORIES.
NO-NIGHT! to-night; what memories to-night
Came thronging o'er me as I stood near thee!
Thy form of loveliness, thy brow of light,
Thy voice's thrilling flow-
All, all were there; to me-to me as bright
As when they claim'd my soul's idolatry
Years, long years ago.
The gulf of years! Oh, God! hast thou been mine,
Would all that's precious have been swallow'd there?
Youth's meteor hope, and manhood's high design,
Lost, lost, for ever lost-
Lost with the love that with them all would twine,
The love that left no harvest but despair
Unwon at such a cost.
Was it ideal, that wild, wild love I bore thee?
Or thou thyself-didst thou my soul enthrall?
Such as thou art to-night did I adore thee,
Ay, idolize-in vain!
Such as thou art to-night-could time restore me
That wealth of loving-shouldst thou have it all,
To waste perchance again?
No! Thou didst break the coffers of my heart,
And set so lightly by the hoard within,
That I too learn'd at last the squanderer's art-
Went idly here and there,
Filling my soul, and lavishing a part
On each, less cold than thou, who cared to win
And seem'd to prize a share.
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