With thee it lost its vital part.
And wither'd then!

Cold its pulse lies,

And mute are ev'n its sighs,
All other grief it now defies.

IF, after all, you still will doubt and fear me,
And think this heart to other loves will stray,
If I must swear, then, lovely doubter, hear me;
By ev'ry dream I have when thou 'rt away,
By ev'ry throb I feel when thou art near me,
I love but thee-I love but thee!

By those dark eyes, where light is ever playing,

Where Love, in depth of shadow, holds his throne, And by those lips, which give whate'er thou'rt saying,

Or grave or gay, a music of its own,

A music far beyond all minstrel's playing,
I love but thee I love but thee!

By that fair brow, where Innocence reposes,
As pure as moonlight sleeping upon snow,
And by that cheek, whose fleeting blush discloses
A hue too bright to bless this world below,
And only fit to dwell on Eden's roses,
I love but thee - I love but thee!

LET JOY ALONE BE REMEMBER'D NOW.

LET thy joys alone be remember'd now,
Let thy sorrows go sleep awhile;

Or if thought's dark cloud come o'er thy brow,
Let Love light it up with his smile.
For thus to meet, and thus to find,

That Time, whose touch can chill
Each flower of form, each grace of mind,
Hath left thee blooming still, -

Oh, joy alone should be thought of now,
Let our sorrows go sleep awhile;

Or, should thought's dark cloud come o'er thy brow, Let Love light it up with his smile.

When the flowers of life's sweet garden fade,

If but one bright leaf remain,

Of the many that once its glory made,

It is not for us to complain.

But thus to meet and thus to wake

In all Love's early bliss;

Oh, Time all other gifts may take,

So he but leaves us this!

Then let joy alone be remember'd now,
Let our sorrows go sleep awhile;

Or if thought's dark cloud come o'er the brow,
Let Love light it up with a smile!

LOVE THEE, DEAREST? LOVE THEE!

LOVE thee, dearest? love thee?

Yes, by yonder star I swear,

Which thro' tears above thee

Shines so sadly fair;

Though often dim,

With tears, like him,

Like him my truth will shine,

And-love thee, dearest? love thee?

Yes, till death I'm thine.

A lute whose gentle song reveals
The soul of love full well;

And, better far, a heart that feels
Much more than lute could tell.

Tho' love and song may fail, alas!
To keep life's clouds away,
At least 't will make them lighter pass
Or gild them if they stay.

And ev'n if Care, at moments, flings
A discord o'er life's happy strain,
Let Love but gently touch the strings,
'T will all be sweet again!

PEACE. PEACE TO HIM THAT'S GONE!

WHEN I am dead,

Then lay my head

In some lone, distant dell,

Where voices ne'er

Shall stir the air,

Or break its silent spell.

If any sound

Be heard around,

Let the sweet bird alone,

66

That weeps in song,

Sing all night long,

Peace, peace to him that's gone!”

ROSE OF THE DESERT.

ROSE of the Desert! thou, whose blushing ray,
Lonely and lovely, fleets unseen away;
No hand to cull thee, none to woo thy sigh,-
In vestal silence left to live and die,
Rose of the Desert! thus should woman be,
Shining uncourted, lone and safe, like thee.

Rose of the Garden, how unlike thy doom!
Destined for others, not thyself, to bloom:
Cull'd e'er thy beauty lives through half its day;
A moment cherish'd, and then cast away;
Rose of the Garden! such is woman's lot, -
Worshipp'd, while blooming-when she fades, forgot.