SONG. It hath a power, though all unstrung It lies neglected now; And from her hands 't will ne'er be wrung, Till death these limbs shall bow! It hath no price since that sweet hour Love's evening hymn within the bower A spirit like the summer's night Are trembling from the wire; Still on my ear her young voice falls, Still floats that melody, On each loved haunt its music calls, Go! leave that harp and me. 59 A heart that loved wildly, but O, how sincere! She dreamed that such happiness could not decay, But the full-flowing fountain has shrunk to a tear. She thought that the sun, which at morn shone so bright, Would surely shine on till the starlight appeared; But sorrow came down on the cold wings of night, And all her youth cherished was trampled and seared; BROKEN VOWS. 61 The being she worshipped, as angels adore, The bird she had nestled so close to her heart, That one! O, no other can ever restore The joy of her Eden, from him she must part! She must strive to forget him; and never again Send a dove to the world with the hope of return; She must close every portal, but sighing and pain In a bosom that sorrow can never unlearn! BURIAL OF A GERMAN EMIGRANT'S CHILD AT SEA. No flowers to lay upon his little breast, But gliding gently to his place of rest, Parting, 'mid tears, at eve, the ocean foam. No turf was round him, but the lifting surge Entombed those lids that closed so calm and slow, While solemn winds, like a cathedral dirge, Ah, who shall tell the maddening grief of love That swept her heart-strings in that hour of woe? Weep, childless mother, but O, look above For aid that only Heaven can now bestow. |