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Whom the wild thought has never crossed, “ What should I feel, were this but lost?"
Should he now wake, and see my face
So changed by passions, fiercely blending,
Some fiend was o'er his pillow bending?
Hark! his lips move ; and gently frame,
In dreamy slumber, words half broken;
Which by those cherub lips is spoken!
He feared, that, ere his eyes could close,
A weary vigil mine should number; Dear innocent! he little knows
How quickly youth shakes hands with slumber: E'en ere my voice had softened, thou Wert in oblivion, deep as now.
Now gently I withdraw my arm,
Fearful thy quiet sleep of breaking ; Thou giv’st no token of alarm,
And pleased I see thee not awaking; The taper shaded with my hand, Gazing on thee awhile I stand.
How beautiful in his repose !
The long dark lash the white lid fringing,
And the blue vein his forehead tinging.
When to my own near couch I steal,
I 'll listen still to hear thee breathing,
"Till with that lullaby I feel
Sleep's dewy mantle o'er me wreathing !
But first, ere I can calm recline,
In silent prayer I kneel beside thee,
Long forfeited, or still denied me.
LEAVEs quiver in the balmy air, the moon grows bright above, Beauty is beaming every where, -- 't is just the hour for love ! So calm, so silent, I could deem beneath yon arch of blue Breathe none beside myself, dear love, the nightingale and you !
The mazy brook is whispering now, a soft tale to the flowers,
moonlight hours ! And sweet the twilight path that guides my footsteps through the
dew, Each eve, to this green dell, my love, the nightingale and you!
Now some seek halls of revelry, where flows the ruddy wine;
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN.
BY ALARIC A. WATTS.
Fare thee well, thou first and fairest !
My sweet one, my sweet one, the tears were in my eyes
I turned to many a withered hope,- to years of grief and pain,-
I gazed upon thy quiet face — half blinded by my tears -
that bound them,
are 'round them.
My sweet one, my sweet one, thy life's brief hour is o'er,
'T is true that thou wert young, my child ; but though brief thy
To me it was a little age of agony and woe;
were wrapt in shade.
O the child in its hours of health and bloom, that is dear as thou
wert then, Grows far more prized—more fondly loved -- in sickness and in
pain ; And thus 't was thine to prove, dear babe, when every hope was
lost, Ten times more precious to my soul — for all that thou hadst
Cradled in thy fair mother's arms, we watched thee day by day,
It came at length ;-o'er thy bright blue eye the film was gather
ing fast, And an awful shade passed o'er thy brow, the deepest and the ·
last; In thicker gushes strove thy breath,—we raised thy drooping
head; A moment more—the final pang--and thou wert of the dead!
Thy gentle mother turned away to hide her face from me,
thee ;She would have chid me that I mourned a doom so blest as
thine, Had not her own deep grief burst forth in tears as wild as mine!
We laid thee down in sinless rest, and from thine infant brow Culled one soft lock of radiant hair -- our only solace now,-Then placed around thy beauteous corse, flowers — not more fair
and sweetTwin rose-buds in thy little hands, and jasmine at thy feet.
Though other offspring still be ours, as fair perchance as thou,
The first! How many a memory bright that one sweet word can
bring, Of hopes that blossomed, drooped, and died, in life's delightful
spring ;Of fervid feelings passed away—those early seeds of bliss, That germinate in hearts unseared by such a world as this !
My sweet one, my sweet one, my fairest and my first!
to burst; But gleams of gladness through my gloom their soothing radiance
dart, And my sighs are hushed, my tears are dried, when I turn to
what thou art !
Pure as the snow-flake ere it falls and takes the stain of earth,
THINK OF ME.
Think of me, and I'll tell thee when
The moment of that thought shall be;
Oh then, beloved, think of me!
When, pale and beautiful as now,
With dewy light and silver brow.
When the blue arch of heaven is bright,
When not a shadow frowns above,
Will seem the emblem of our love.
And the black storms around thee wait,
Will seem the cinblem of our fate.
L. E. L.