It is the verdict of my eyes,

Amidst the gay and young:

I love thee-I love thee !

A thousand maids among.

I love thee-I love thee!

Thy bright and hazel glance, The mellow lute upon those lips,

Whose tender tones entrance;

But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs That still these words enhance,

I love thee-I love thee!

Whatever be thy chance.

SERENADE.

Ан, sweet, thou little knowest how

I wake and passionate watches keep; And yet, while I address thee now,

Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep.

'Tis sweet enough to make me weep, That tender thought of love and thee, That while the world is hush'd so deep, Thy soul's perhaps awake to me !

Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep! With golden visions for thy dower,

While I this midnight vigil keep,

And bless thee in thy silent bower;

To me 'tis sweeter than the power

Of sleep, and fairy dreams unfurl'd, That I alone, at this still hour,

In patient love outwatch the world.

BALLAD.

IT was not in the winter

Our loving lot was cast;

It was the time of roses,

We pluck'd them as we pass'd!

That churlish season never frown'd

On early lovers yet!

Oh, no-the world was newly crown'd With flowers when first we met.

'Twas twilight, and I bade you go, But still you held me fast;

It was the time of roses,

We pluck'd them as we pass'd!