I was the first, the only one Her heart had thought of for a minute; I knew it, for she told me so, In phrase which was divinely moulded; She wrote a charming hand, and oh! How sweetly all her notes were folded! Our love was like most other loves— A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And "Fly Not Yet," upon the river; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows-and then we parted. We parted-months and years roll'd by; We met again four summers after; Our parting was all sob and sigh Our meeting was all mirth and laughter; For in my heart's most secret cell, There had been many other lodgers; And she was not the ball-room belle, But only Mrs. Something-Rogers. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. UTOPIA. "I can dream, sir, If I eat well and sleep well. The Mad Lover. IF I could scare the sun away, If I could bid the clouds obey, Thick darkness should be mine: Where'er my weary footsteps roam, I hate whate'er I see; And Fancy builds a fairer home In Slumber's hour for me. I had a vision yesternight Of a fairer land than this, Where Heaven was clothed in warmth and light, Where Earth was full of bliss; And every tree was rich with fruits, And every field with flowers, |