O lady! there be many things

That seem right fair, below, above; But sure not one among them all

Is half so sweet as love;

Let us not pay our vows alone,

But join two altars both in one.

THE PHILOSOPHER TO HIS LOVE.

DEAREST, a look is but a ray
Reflected in a certain way;
A word, whatever tone it wear,
Is but a trembling wave of air;
A touch, obedience to a clause
In nature's pure material laws.

The

very flowers that bend and meet,
In sweetening others, grow more sweet;
The clouds by day, the stars by night,
Inweave their floating locks of light;

The rainbow, Heaven's own forehead's braid,
Is but the embrace of sun and shade.

How few that love us have we found!
How wide the world that girds them round!
Like mountain streams we meet and part,

Each living in the other's heart,

Our course unknown, our hope to be

Yet mingled in the distant sea.

64

THE PHILOSOPHER TO HIS LOVE.

But Ocean coils and heaves in vain,

Bound in the subtle moonbeam's chain;
And love and hope do but obey
Some cold, capricious planet's ray,
Which lights and leads the tide it charms,
To Death's dark caves and icy arms.

Alas! one narrow line is drawn,
That links our sunset with our dawn;
In mist and shade life's morning rose,
And clouds are round it at its close;
But ah! no twilight beam ascends
To whisper where that evening ends.

Oh! in the hour when I shall feel
Those shadows round my senses steal,
When gentle eyes are weeping o'er
The clay that feels their tears no more,
Then let thy spirit with me be,
Or some sweet angel, likest thee!

L'INCONNUE.

Is thy name Mary, maiden fair?

Such should, methinks, its music be; The sweetest name that mortals bear, Were best befitting thee;

And she, to whom it once was given,
Was half of earth and half of heaven.

I hear thy voice, I see thy smile,
I look upon thy folded hair;
Ah! while we dream not they beguile,
Our hearts are in the snare ;

And she, who chains a wild bird's wing,
Must start not if her captive sing.

So, lady, take the leaf that falls,

To all but thee unseen, unknown; When evening shades thy silent walls,

Then read it all alone;

In stillness read, in darkness seal,
Forget, despise, but not reveal!

THE STAR AND THE WATER-LILY.

THE sun stepped down from his golden throne,

And lay in the silent sea,

And the Lily had folded her satin leaves,

For a sleepy thing was she; What is the Lily dreaming of?

Why crisp the waters blue ?

See, see, she is lifting her varnished lid!

Her white leaves are glistening through!

The Rose is cooling his burning cheek
In the lap of the breathless tide; -

The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair,

That would lie by the Rose's side; He would love her better than all the rest,

And he would be fond and true; But the Lily unfolded her weary lids,

And looked at the sky so blue.