« PreviousContinue »
And ever since that joyous day I blessed her as my
bride, In joy and sorrow, calm or storm, I found her at my side; And when the summons from above shall close the
scene of life, May I be called to rest with thee, my good, my dear
IANTHE! ON THAT LOFTY BROW.
BY W. HENRY CARPENTER.
IANTHE! on that lofty brow
Thought sits as on a throne;
With love, and love alone,
As if by beauty nursed;
The more it is athirst.
Then frown not if I look, my dear,
Too fondly in thine eyes ;
Thy musical replies.
When lovingly they shine ;
Oh! I could linger near thee, sweet!
From eve till morning's light, And chide the hours whose winged feet
Too swiftly chase the night. So rapt am I, and thou so dear,
That churlish Time is all forgot; And I but dream, when thou art near,
To wake when thou art not.
It hath a sad sweet sound—“Farewell,"
When loved lips murmur it ;
We fain would bind us yet.
And slowly move the loitering hours; For bleak and bare reality
Usurps the realm of flowers.
THE LAKE OF CAYOSTEA.
BY ROBERT BARKER.
The wave has ne'er by gondolier
Been dashed aside with flashing oar, Nor festive train to music's strain
Performed the dance upon thy shore.
But there, at night, beneath the light
Of silent moon and twinkling ray, The Indian's boat is seen to float,
And track its lonely way.
The Indian maid, in forest glade,
Of flowers that earliest grow, And fragrant leaves, a garland weaves
To deck her warrior's brow. And when away, at break of day,
She hies her to her shieling dear, She sings so gay a roundelay,
That echo stops to hear.
Would it were mine to join with thine,
And dwell for ever here,
By the silent Cayostea.
Along these banks to roam ;
Whose clime is freedom's home.
BY JONATHAN LAWRENCE, JUN.
[The following song was suggested by an anecdote said to have been related by the late Dr. Godman, of the ship-boy who was about to fall from the rigging, and was only saved by the mate's characteristic exclamacion, "Look aloft, you lubber.”]
In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale
If the friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow
Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine
eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and through tears of repentant regret, “ Look aloft” to the sun that is never to set.
Should they who are dearest—the son of thy heart,
And oh! when death comes in terrors, to cast,
OH, WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD.
BY MARY E. BROOKS.
Oh, weep not for the dead!
When all besides are fled;
But never be a tear-drop shed
Oh, weep not for the dead !
The thousand thorns we tread;