It was an idle dream—but thou,
Beloved one! wert there;

With thy dark clear eyes and beaming brow,

White neck and floating hair;

And oh! I had an honest heart,

And a house of Portland Stone;

And thou wert dear, as still thou art:
And more than dear-my own.

Oh bitterness! the morning broke,
Alike for boor and bard;

And thou wert married when I woke,

And all the rest were marred:
And toil and trouble, noise and steam,
Came back with coming ray,

And if I thought the dead could dream,
I'd hang myself to-day.

PALINODIA.

Not mine this lesson-but experience's which it taught me.

THERE was a time when I could feel

All passion's hopes and fears,
And tell what tongues can ne'er reveal,
By smiles, and sighs, and tears.
The days are gone! no more! no more,
The cruel fates allow;

And though I'm hardly twenty-four,

I'm not a lover now!

Lady, the mist is on my sight,

The chill is on my brow;

My day is night, my bloom is blight,
I'm not a lover now!

I never talk about the clouds,
I laugh at girls and boys;
I'm growing rather fond of crowds,
And very fond of noise—

I never wander forth alone

Upon the mountain's brow;

I weighed last winter sixteen stone-
I'm not a lover now!

I never wish to raise a veil,
I never raise a sigh,

I never tell a tender tale,
I never tell a lie;

I cannot kneel as once I did,

I've quite forgot my bow,

I never do as I am bid

I'm not a lover now.

I make strange blunders every day,
If I would be gallant-

Take smiles for wrinkles, black for gray,
And nieces for their aunt;

I fly from folly, though it flows
From lips of loveliest glow;

I don't object to length of nose-
I'm not a lover now!

The Muse's steed is very fleet-
I'd rather ride my mare;
The poet hunts a quaint conceit-

I'd rather hunt a hare;

I've learned to utter yours and

Instead of thine and thou; And, oh! I can't endure a blue!

I'm not a lover now!

you,

I don't encourage idle dreams
Of poison, or of ropes;
I cannot dine on airy schemes,
I cannot sup on hopes!
Now milk I own is very fine,

Just foaming from the cow;
But yet, I want my pint of wine-

I'm not a lover now!

When Laura sings young hearts away,

I'm deafer than the deep; When Leonora goes to play, I sometimes go to sleep;

When Mary draws her white gloves out,

I never dance, I vow—

Too hot to kick one's heels about!

I'm not a lover now!

I'm busy with the State affairs,
I prate of Pitt and Fox!

I ask the price of railroad shares,
I watch the turn of stocks.

And this is life-no verdure blooms
Upon the withered bough;

I save a fortune in perfumes

I

I'm not a lover now!

may be yet what others are,

A boudoir's babbling fool;

The flattered star of bench and bar,

A party's chief or tool.

Come shower or sunshine-hope or fear, The palace or the plough,

My heart and lute are broken here—

I'm not a lover now!

Lady, the mist is on my sight,

The chill is on my brow,

My day is night, my bloom is blight,
I'm not a lover now!

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