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Like her delusive beam,
'Twill steal away thy mind;
It leaves no sting behind!
These flowers were cull'd at noon;
Its fragrance is not o'er;
The heart can bloom no more!
SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND.
And lovers are round her sighing
For her heart in his grave is lying!
Ev'ry note which he lov'd awaking-
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!
They were all that to life had entwin’d him,-
Nor long will his love stay behind him!
When they promise a glorious morrow;
From her own lov'd Island of sorrow!
THE BUCKET. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection recalls them to view
The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild-wood,
And ev'ry lov'd spot which my infancy knew; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
The old oaken bucket—the iron-bound bucketThe moss cover'd bucket, which hung in the well. That moss-cover'd vessel I hail as a treasure,
For often, at noon, when return'd from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield; How ardent I siężd it with hands that were glowing,
And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell,
The old oaken bucket, &c.
As poisid on the cord, it inclin’d to my lips, Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
Tho’ fill'd with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now far remov'd from the lov'd situation,
The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy revisits my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well
The old oaken bucket, &c.
OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT.
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Of other days around me;
The words of love then spoken,
Thu in the stilly night, &c.
When I remember all
The friends so link'd together, I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in winter weather, I feel like one, who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, whose garland 's dead, And all but he deserted.
Thus in the stilly night, &c.
THE CARRIER PIGEON. COME hither thou beautiful rover,
Thou wand’rer of earth and of air; Who bear'st the sighs of the lover,
And bringest him news of his fair. Bend hither thy light waving pinion,
And shew me the gloss of thy neck; 0! perch on my hand, dearest minion,
And turn up thy bright eye and peck. Here's bread of the whitest and sweetest,
And there is a sip of red wine; Though thy wing is the lightest and fleetest,
"Twill be fleeter when nerv'd by the vine; I have written on rose-scented paper,
With thy wing-quill, a soft billet-doux, I have melted the wax in love's taper,
T'is the color of true hearts, sky blue. I have fastend it under thy pinion,
With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck; So go from me, beautiful minion,
While the pure ether shows not a speck. Like a cloud in the dim distance fleeting,
Like an arrow he hurries away; And farther and farther retreating, He is lost in the clear blue of day.
THE LAVENDER GIRL..
When the sky lark-sings so cheerily
little basket fill,
I but laugh at Cupid's dart;
By trudging along to sell my lavender
Never saw ye nicer lavender;
Come, come, buy my lavender.
Foes to health, I'm wisely keeping it;
And sit beneath the hedge partaking it.
Tell me then am not I bless'd ?
Ladies, try it, &c.
THE YOUNG TROUBADOUR.
0! hearken then, lady, to-morrow i'm sure You'll welcome the song of the young Troubadour.
I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.
The house where I was born,
The sun came peeping in at morn;
Nor brought too long a day,
Had borne my breath away!
The roses red and white,
Those Powers made of light!
And where my brother set
The tree is living yet!
Where I was used to swing,
To swallows on the wing;
That are so heavy now,
The fever on my brow.
The fir trees dark and high:
Were close against the sky:
But now 'lis little joy