NOT AT HOME.

THAT Jealousy may rule a mind
Where Love could never be
I know; but ne'er expect to find
Love without Jealousy.

She has a strange cast in her ee,
A swart sour-visaged maid-
But yet Love's own twin-sister she
His house-mate and his shade.

Ask for her and she'll be denied:
What then? they only mean
Their mistress has lain down to sleep,
And can't just then be seen.

WORK WITHOUT HOPE.

LINES COMPOSED 21ST FEBRUARY, 1827.

ALL Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair-
The bees are stirring-birds are on the wing-
And Winter slumbering in the open air,

Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,

Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! With lips unbrighten'd, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve, And hope without an object cannot live.

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE.

HER attachment may differ from yours in degree,
Provided they are both of one kind;

But Friendship how tender so ever it be

Gives no accord to Love, however refined.

Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing,
Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs:

If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling,
You must lower down your state to hers.

MOLES.

—THEY shrink in, as Moles

(Nature's mute monks, live mandrakes of the ground)
Creep back from Light-then listen for its sound ;-
See but to dread, and dread they know not why-
The natural alien of their negative eye.

DUTY SURVIVING SELF-LOVE.

THE ONLY SURE FRIEND OF DECLINING LIFE. A SOLILOQUY.

UNCHANGED within to see all changed without
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
Yet why at others' wanings should'st thou fret ?
Then only might'st thou feel a just regret,
Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light
In selfish forethought of neglect and slight.
O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings freed,
While, and on whom, thou may'st-shine on! nor heed
Whether the object by reflected light

Return thy radiance or absorb it quite:

And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they are; nor love them less,
Because to thee they are not what they were.

SONG.

THOUGH veiled in spires of myrtle wreath,

Love is a sword that cuts its sheath,

And thro' the clefts itself has made
We spy
the flashes of the Blade!

But thro' the clefts itself has made
We likewise see Love's flashing blade,
By rust consumed or snapt in twain
And only Hilt and Stump remain.

PHANTOM OR FACT?

A DIALOGUE IN VERSE.

AUTHOR.

A LOVELY form there sate beside my bed,
And such a feeding calm its presence shed,
A tender love so pure from earthly leaven
That I unnethe the fancy might control,
'Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven,
Wooing its gentle way into my soul!

But ah! the change-It had not stirr'd, and yet―
Alas! that change how fain would I forget!
That shrinking back, like one that had mistook

That weary, wandering, disavowing look!
'Twas all another, feature, look, and frame,
And still, methought, I knew, it was the same!

FRIEND.

This riddling tale, to what does it belong?
Is't history? vision? or an idle song?

Or rather
within what space
at once,
say
Of time this wild disastrous change took place

AUTHOR.

Call it a moment's work (and such it seems)
This tale's a fragment from the life of dreams.
But say, that years matured the silent strife,
And 'tis a record from the dream of life.

TO A LADY

OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT WOMEN HAVE
NO SOULS.

NAY, dearest Anna! why so grave?
I said, you had no soul, 'tis true!
For what you are, you cannot have:

'Tis I, that have one since I first had you!

I HAVE heard of reasons manifold
Why Love must needs be blind,
But this the best of all I hold-
eyes are in his mind.

His

What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair
He seeth with the heart.

"THE LOVE THAT MAKETH NOT ASHAMED."

WHERE true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame,

That takes its meaning from the nobler part,

And but translates the language of the heart.