TIME, HOPE, AND MEMORY. I HEARD a gentle maiden, in the spring, Set her sweet sighs to music, and thus sing: 66 Fly through the world, and I will follow thee, Only for looks that may turn back on me ; 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, "Her face is smiling, and her voice is sweet : "Only if wakened to sad truth, at last, The bitterness to come, and sweetness past; When thou art vext, then, turn again, and see SONG. O LADY, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie : There's living roses on the bush, And blossoms on the tree; Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet. "Tis like the birthday of the world, When earth was born in bloom; The light is made of many dyes, The air is all perfume ; There's crimson buds, and white and blue The very rainbow showers Have turned to blossoms where they fell, And sown the earth with flowers. There's fairy tulips in the east, And blossom as they run : Still wet with pearly showers; FLOWERS. I WILL not have the mad Clytie, The violet is a nun; 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; 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; 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, 'Tis all that I can say; The blessing when I pray : I love thee - I love thee! 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. ΤΟ LET us make a leap, my dear, And love for all that long ago; SERENADE. Áн, sweet, thou little knowest how Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep. "Tis 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, |