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THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. DHEY made her a grave too cold and And near him the she-wolf stirred the brake, damp
And the coppersnake breathed in his ear, For a soul so warm and true;
Till he starting, cried, from his dream awake,
And the white canoe of my dear ?"
He saw the lake, and a meteor bright
Quick over its surface played; “ And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see, “Welcome,” he said, “my dear one's light!" And her paddle I soon shall hear;
And the dim shore echoed for many a night Long and loving our life shall be,
The name of the death-cold maid. And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of Death is near.” Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark
Which carried him off from the shore; Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds ; Far, far he followed the meteor spark; His path was rugged and sore,
The winds were high, and the clouds were Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,
dark, Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,
And the boat returned no more. And man never trod before.
But oft from the Indian hunter's camp, And, when on earth he sunk to sleep,
This lover and maid so true
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp
And paddle their white canoe.
PROPOSAL. DHE violet loves a sunny bank,
The west winds kiss the clover blooms, The cowslip loves the lea,
But I kiss thee.
The oriole weds his mottled mate,
The lily's bride o' the bee, The sunshine kisses mount and vale,
Heaven's marriage ring is round the earth. The stars they kiss the sea,
Shall I wed thee?
'Twas partly Love and partly Fear,
THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE. And partly 'twas a bashful art,
OW many summers, love, That I might rather feel than see
Have I been thine ? The swelling of her heart.
How many days, love, I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
Hast thou been mine? And told her love with virgin pride,
Time, like the winged wind And so I won my Genevieve,
When 't bends the flowers, My bright and beauteous bride.
Hath left no mark behind,
To count the hours !
Some weight of thought, though loth,
On thee he leaves;
Perhaps he weaves ;
For joys scarce known;
All else is flown!
Ah! with what thankless heart
I mourn and sing !
Like sudden spring!
Like a pleasant rhyme,
BRYAN W. PROCTER.
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
A PETITION TO TIME. Poucit us gently, Time!
Let us glide adown the stream
Through a quiet dream!
We've not proud nor soaring wings;
Lies in simple things.
BRYAN W. PROCTER.
SONNET. (It is said that soon after the death of Longfellow, io 1882, the following tribute to his wife, which was written in July, 1879, was found in his portfolio. The lines were not, we believe, made public until very recently.) IN the long, sleepless watches of the night, f A gentle face—the face of one long deadLooks at me from the wall, where round its
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
EPITHALAMIUM. SAW two clouds at morning
In peace each other greeting; Tinged by the rising sun,
Calm was their course through banks of green, And in the dawn they floated on,
While dimpling eddies played between.
Such be your gentle motion,
Till life's last pulse shall beat;
Like summer's beam, and summer's stream, I saw two summer currents
Float on, in joy, to meet Flow smoothly to their meeting,
A calmer sca, where storms shall cease, And join their course, with silent force,
A purer sky, where all is peace.
JOHN G. C. BRAINARD,