Look on me still: let that kind eye
Be the last light I see!
Oh! sad it is in spring to die,
But yet I die for thee!
For thee, my own! my stately head
Was never thus to bow
Give tears when with me love hath fled,
True love, thou know'st it now!
Oh! the free streams looked bright where'er
We in our gladness roved;
And the blue skies were very fair-
O friend! because we loved.
Farewell!-I bless thee-live thou on,
When this young heart is low!
Surely my blood thy life hath won-
Clasp me once more-I go!
WHY THIS LONGING.
WHY this longing, thus for ever sighing
For the far off, unattained, and dim ;
While the beautiful, all round thee lying,
Offers up its low, perpetual hymn?
Wouldst thou listen to its gentle teaching,
All thy restless yearning it would still :
Leaf, and flower, and laden bee, are preaching
Thine own sphere, though humble, first to fill.
Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee
Thou no ray of light and joy canst throw;
If no silken cord of love hath bound thee
To some little world through weal or woe;
If no dear eyes thy fond love can brighten-
No fond voices answer to thine own;
If no brother's sorrow thou canst lighten
By daily sympathy and gentle tone.
Not by deeds that win the crowd's applauses;
Not by works that give thee world-renown;
Not by martyrdom, or vaunted crosses,
Canst thou win and wear the immortal crown: Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely, Every day a rich reward will give; Thou wilt find, by hearty striving only, And true loving, thou canst truly live.
"He always look'd as though he lov'd!"
He always look'd as though he lov'd:
I could not bear his gaze;
And oft his eye toward me rov'd,
And oft he spoke my praise:
And though not one sweet word of love
Did on his accents dwell,
His smile when I was by must prove
What tongue did never tell!
How very often, too, he sought
To be alone with me;
While I, too foolish, never thought
Of Love's sweet treachery;
He must have notic'd the warm blush
Which mantled o'er my cheek,
And how the blood would backward rush
As he my glance would seek!
Alas! another is his bride!
Yet, haply, when we meet,
shall wander from her side
And stealthily me greet:
Why said he not he loved me? then
I had not been heart-broken;
He, too, had been a happier man,—
Is not his blush the token?
LOVE AT THE GRAVE.
REMEMBRANCER of nature's primę,
And herald of her fading near,
The last month of the summer time
Of leaves and flowers is with us herc.
More eloquent than lip can preach,
To every heart that hopes and fears,
What solemn lesson does it teach,
Of the quick passage of our years.
To me it brings sad thoughts of one,
Who in the summer's fading bloom
Bright from the arms of love went down
To the dim silence of the tomb.
How often since has spring's soft shower
Revived the life in nature's breath,
And the sweet herb and tender flower
Hath been renewed above her rest!
How many summer times have told
To mortal hearts their rapid flight,
Since first this heap of yellow mould
Shut out her beauty from my sight.
Since first, to love's sweet promise true,
My feet beside her pillow trod,
Till year by year the pathway grew
Deeper and deeper in the sod.
Now these neglected roses tell
Of no kind hand to tend them nigh-
Oh God! I have not kept so well
My faith as in the years gone by!
But here to-day my step returns,
And kneeling where these willows wave, As the soft flame of sunrise burns
Down through the dim leaves to thy grave
I cry, forgive, that I should prove
Forgetful of thy memory;
Forgive me, that a living love
Once came between my soul and thee;
For the weak heart that vainly yearned
For human love its life to cheer,
Baffled and bleeding, has returned
To stifle down its crying here.
For steadfast still, thy faith to me
Was one which earth could not estrange;
And, lost one! where the angels be,
I know affliction may not change!
SHE looked on the vine at her father's door,
Like one that is leaving his native shore;
She hung o'er the myrtle once called her own,
As it greenly waved by the threshold stone;
She turned and her mother's gaze brought back
Each hue of her childhood's faded track;
-Oh hush the song, and let her tears
Flow to the dream of her early years;
Holy and pure are the drops that fall
When the young Bride goes from her father's hall,
She goes unto love yet untried and new-
She parts from love which has ever been true;
Mute be the lyre, and the choral strain,
Till her heart's deep well-spring is clear again!
She wept on her mother's faithful breast,
Like a babe that sobs itself to rest!
She wept-yet laid her hand the while
On his that waited her dawning smile-
Her soul's affianced-nor cherished less
For the gush of nature's tenderness;
-She lifted her graceful head at last,
The choking swell of heart was past;
And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way
In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay,
And like a slight young tree, that throws
The weight of rain from its drooping boughs,
Once more she wept; but a changeful thing
Is the human heart, as a mountain spring,
That works its way through the torrents' foam
To the bright pool near it, the lily's home!
It is well-the cloud on her soul that lay
Hath melted in glittering drops away;
Wake again, mingle, sweet flute and lyre!
She turns to her lover-she leaves her sire!
Mother! on earth it must still be so-
Thou rearest the lovely, to see them go!
If thy heart whispers that I love thee still,
Yet living on a memory of the past,
Or that mine eyes with tender tear-drops fill,
As o'er Hope's ruined page my glance is cast--
That oft thy name is blended with my prayer,
Thine image mingled with the morning's light,
That sleep, which drowns all waking dreams of
But wafts thy softened shadow to my sight-
If when thou dost recall that wine-clad grove,
The moonbeams filled with checkered light and shading, When first we breathed our trembling vows of love, And lingered till the stars' soft rays were fading, Thy fancy paints me wandering sad and slow Through those dim paths that once thy footstep pressed, My heart with tender thoughts will overflow, That find no echo in thine altered breast
Though when we meet, I school my downcast eye
And faltering lip to speak a careless greeting,
Or 'mid the crowd in silence pass thee by,
Lest I betray my heart's unquiet beating:
'Tis that no eye save thine shall ever see
My soul gush forth in yearning to thine own,
Or coldly trace the feelings felt for thee,
And read the love revealed in look and tone,-
Believe it.
Wronged by thine anger, prized perchance no more,
From me undying thought thou canst not sever,
Still may I trust to meet thee on that shore
Where pure affection lights the soul for ever:
Though earthly hope in meekness I resign,
E'en while my heart's full tenderness revealing, Remember, if one doubt arise in thine,
These words of truth in bitter tears I'm sealing :
THOU marvellest why so oft her eyes
Fill with the heavy dew of tears-
Have I not told thee that there lies
A shadow darkly on her years?
Life was to her one sunny whole,
Made up of visions fancy wove,
Till that the waters of her soul
Were troubled by the touch of love.
I knew when first the sudden pause
Upon her spirit's sunshine fell—
Alas! I little guessed the cause,
'Twas hidden in her heart so well:
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