TIME'S CHANGES. I SAW her once-so freshly fair She open'd to Life's cloudless air; And Nature joy'd to view its moulding: Her cheeks fine hue divinely glowing- And darkly dream that earthly storm Should dim such sweet, delicious splendour! For in her mein, and in her face, And in her young step's fairy lightness, Nought could the raptured gazer trace But Beauty's glow, and Pleasure's brightness. I saw her twice-an alter'd charm But still of magic, richest, rarest, Than girlhood's talisman less warm, Though yet of earthly sights the fairest : Upon her breast she held a child, They seem'd to live but in each other :- Her thoughtless, sinless look had banish'd, And from her cheek the roseate glow Of girlhood's balmy morn had vanish'd; Within her eyes, upon her brow, Lay something softer, fonder, deeper, As if in dreams some vision'd wo Had broke the Elysium of the sleeper. I saw her thrice-Fate's dark decree In widow's garments had array'd her, Yet beautiful she seem'd to be, As even my reveries portrayed her; The glow, the glance had pass'd away, The sunshine, and the sparkling glitter; Still, though I noted pale decay, The retrospect was scarcely bitter; For, in their place a calmness dwelt, Serene, subduing, soothing, holy; In feeling which, the bosom felt That every louder mirth is follyA pensiveness, which is not grief, A stillness-as of sunset streaming A fairy glow on flower and leaf, Till earth looks on like a landscape dreaming. A last time-and unmoved she lay, A glorious mould of fading clay, From whence the spark had fled for ever! I gazed-my breast was like to burst And, as I thought of years departed, The years wherein I saw her first, When she, a girl, was tender-hearted— And, when I mused on later days, As moved she in her matron duty, A happy mother, in the blaze Of ripen'd hope, and sunny beauty I felt the chill-I turn d aside Bleak Desolation's cloud came o'er me, And Being seem'd a troubled tide, Whose wrecks in darkness swam before me ! GOOD NIGHT. Good night to thee, lady!—though many Thy form was the fairest of any, Where all was seducing and bright; Thy smile was the softest and dearest, Good night to thee, lady!—'tis over— The whisper'd farewell of the lover, The heartless adieu of the throng; The heart that was throbbing with pleasure, The beaux that were dreaming of treasure, "Tis over-the lights are all dying, The coaches all driving away ; And many a fair one is sighing, And many a false one is gay; Of conquests, as homeward she drives And some are gone home to their slumbers, And I, while my cab in the shower Am looking all round for the flower That fell from your wreath on the floor. I'll keep it—if but to remind me, Though withered and faded its hue Wherever next season may find me— Of England-of Almack's-and you! There are tones that will haunt us, though lonely Our path be o'er mountain or sea; There are looks that will part from us only When memory ceases to be; There are hopes which our burden can lighten, |