THE MOTTO. SOMEBODY sent me a dear little note, The paper was Moinier's, the writing was fair; Shall I here tell you what somebody wrote? - No, let the Muse keep the secret from air, But this was the motto the seal had to show, This, "C'est le cœur qui fait valoir les mots." Somebody walked with me, light was her tread Shall I here tell you what somebody said? The sunlight has faded-the words have grown cold Do you believe in the motto or no, "C'est le cœur qui fait valoir les mots." Somebody sang me a sweet little song, Full of all tender, unspeakable things, Shall I repeat them? no, ever so long They have flown off on the swiftest of wings, Ah! "C'est le cœur qui fait valoir les mots." Shall I with censure link somebody's name For the note, and the walk, and the fly-away birds? No, the dear creature was never to blame, She had no heart to give value to words; JOHN R. THOMPSON. LOVE. ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, All are but ministers of Love, Oft in my waking dreams do I The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there-my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leaned against the armed man, Few sorrows hath she of her own, The songs that make her grieve. LOVE. I played a soft and doleful air; I sang an old and moving story: An old, rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, I told her of the knight that wore I told her how he pined—and ah! She listened with a flitting blush, But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night; That sometimes from the savage den, There came, and looked him in the face, And that, unknowing what he did, And how she wept, and clasped his knees; The scorn that crazed his brain; And that she nursed him in a cave; His dying words-but when I reached LOVE. All impulses of soul and sense And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, She wept with pity and delight, Her bosom heaved; she stept aside, She half inclosed me with her arms; She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face. "Twas partly love, and partly fear, |