There's crimson buds, and white and blue -- Have turned to blossoms where they fell, And sown the earth with flowers. There's fairy tulips in the east, The garden of the sun; The very streams reflect the hues, TIME, HOPE, AND MEMORY. I HEARD a gentle maiden, in the spring, Only for roses that your chance may throw Though withered - I will wear them on my brow, "Thy love before thee, I must tread behind, And words speak false; yet, if they welcome prove, I'll be their echo, and repeat their love. "Only if wakened to sad truth, at last, The bitterness to come, and sweetness past; When thou art vext, then, turn again, and see Thou hast loved Hope, but Memory loved thee." FLOWERS. I WILL not have the mad Clytie, But I will woo the dainty rose, The pea is but a wanton witch, In too much haste to wed, And clasps her rings on every hand; With her cheeks of tender red. The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me And the daisy's cheek is tipped with a blush, She is of such low degree; Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves, And the broom's betrothed to the bee; But I will plight with the dainty rose, ΤΟ STILL glides the gentle streamlet on, Serene or ruffled by the storm, On present waves, as on the past, The self-same trees their semblance cast. The hue each fleeting globule wears So, love, however time may flow, ΤΟ LET us make a leap, my dear, When my faults were all forgiven, And love for all that long ago; ΤΟ I LOVE thee I love thee! The blessing when I pray: I love thee - I love thee! A thousand maids among. I love thee I love thee! Thy bright and hazel glance, The mellow lute upon those lips, Whose tender tones entrance; But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs That still these words enhance, I love thee I love thee! Whatever be thy chance. SERENADE. Ан, sweet, thou little knowest how Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep. "T is sweet enough to make me weep, That tender thought of love and thee, That while the world is hushed so deep, Thy soul's perhaps awake to me! Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep! With golden visions for thy dower, While I this midnight vigil keep, And bless thee in thy silent bower; To me 't is sweeter than the power Of sleep, and fairy dreams unfurled, That I alone, at this still hour, In patient love outwatch the world. VERSES IN AN ALBUM. FAR above the hollow Nor a storm invade him, On his joyous throne. So when I behold me How thy soul doth fold me |