And thus my little book shall be A mine of pleasant thoughts to me. And we, perchance, may meet no more; For other accents sound, And darker prospects spread before, But those who meet, as we have met, No! I shall miss that merry smile And listen in the silent aisle For that remembered tone; And look up to the lattice high For beckoning hand and beaming eye. And thou perhaps, when years are gone, Wilt turn these pages over, And waste one idle thought upon A rambling rhyming rover, And deem the Poet and his line Both wild, both worthless, and both thine! L'INCONNUE MANY a beaming brow I've known, And I've listened to many a melting tone In magic fleeting by; And mine was never a heart of stone, And yet my heart hath given to none The tribute of a sigh; For Fancy's wild and witching mirth Was dearer than aught I found on earth, And the fairest forms I ever knew Were far less fair than -L'Inconnue! Many an eye that once was bright Many a flower that once was dight Hath faded in its bloom; But she is still as fair and gay As if she had sprung to life to-day; Wild Fancy hath given to - L'Inconnue. Many an eye of piercing jet Hath only gleamed to grieve me; Many a fairy form I've met, But none have wept to leave me; One pleasant dream shall haunt me yet, For oh! when all beside is past, Fancy is found our friend at last, And the faith is firm and the love is true Which are vowed by the lips of — L'Inconnue! то I WE met but in one giddy dance, Good-night joined hands with greeting; And twenty thousand things may chance Before our second meeting: For oh! I have been often told That all the world grows older, And hearts and hopes, to-day so cold, To-morrow must be colder. II If I have never touched the string Beneath your chamber, dear And never said one civil thing one, When you were by to hear one,- |