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, And colder hearts come round; And cloistered walk and grated pane Must wear their wonted gloom again.

But those who meet, as we have met,
In frolic and in laughter,

O dream not they can e'er forget
The thoughts that linger after;
That parted friend and faded scene
Can be as if they ne'er had been:

No! I shall miss that merry smile
When thou hast left me lone;
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!

1

L'INCONNUE

MANY a beaming brow I've known,

And many a dazzling eye,

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

Is dark to-day in gloom;
Many a voice that once was light

Is silent in the tomb;

Many a flower that once was dight
In beauty's most entrancing might

Hath faded in its bloom;

But she is still as fair and gay

As if she had sprung to life to-day;
A ceaseless tone and a deathless hue

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;
When all forsake, and all forget,

One pleasant dream shall haunt me yet,
One hope shall not deceive me;

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!

ΤΟ

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 one,
And never said one civil thing
When you were by to hear one,-
If I have made no rhymes about
Those looks which conquer Stoics,
And heard those angel tones, without
One fit of fair heroics,-