Breathe of deep love-a lonely vigil keeping

Through the night hours, o'er wasted wealth to pine; Rich thoughts and sad, like faded rose-leaves heaping, In the shut heart, at once a tomb and shrine.

Or pass as if thy spirit-notes came sighing
From worlds beneath some blue Elysian sky;
Breathe of repose, the pure, the bright, the undying —
Of joy no more- bewildering harmony!

TO THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD.

FORGET them not: - though now their name
Be but a mournful sound,

Though by the hearth its utterance claim

A stillness round.

Though for their sake this earth no more
As it hath been may be,

And shadows, never mark'd before,

Brood o'er each tree;

And though their image dim the sky,

Yet, yet forget them not!

Nor, where their love and life went by,

Forsake the spot!

They have a breathing influence there,

A charm not elsewhere found;

Sad - yet it sanctifies the air,
The stream - the ground.

Then, though the wind an alter'd tone
Through the young foliage bear,

Though every flower, of something gone,
A tinge may wear;

Oh! fly it not!-no fruitless grief

Thus in their presence felt,

A record links to every leaf
There, where they dwelt.

Still trace the path which knew their tread, Still tend their garden-bower,

Still commune with the holy dead

In each lone hour!

The holy dead!-oh! bless'd we are,

That we may call them so,

And to their image look afar,

Through all our woe!

Bless'd, that the things they loved on earth, As relics we may hold,

That wake sweet thoughts of parted worth,

By springs untold!

Bless'd, that a deep and chastening power

Thus o'er our soul's is given,

If but to bird, or song, or flower,
Yet all for Heaven!

THE PALMER.

ART thou come from the far-off land at last?

Thou hast wander'd long!

Thou art come to a home whence the smile hath pass'd With the merry voice of song.

For the sunny glance and the bounding heart
Thou wilt seek—but all are gone;

They are parted e'en as waters part,
To meet in the deep alone!

And thou

from thy lip is fled the glow,

From thine eye the light of morn;

And the shades of thought o'erhang thy brow
And thy cheek with life is worn.

Say what hast thou brought from the distant shore
For thy wasted youth to pay?

Hast thou treasure to win thee joys once more?
Hast thou vassals to smooth thy way?

"I have brought but the palm-branch in my hand,
Yet I call not my bright youth lost!

I have won but high thought in the Holy Land,
Yet I count not too dear the cost!

"I look on the leaves of the deathless tree
These records of my track;

And better than youth in its flush of glee,
Are the memories they give me back!

"They speak of toil, and of high emprise, As in words of solemn cheer,

They speak of lonely victories

O'er pain, and doubt, and fear.

They speak of scenes which have now become

Bright pictures in my breast;

Where my spirit finds a glorious home,
And the love of my heart can rest.

"The colors pass not from these away,
Like tints of shower or sun;

Oh! beyond all treasures that know decay,
Is the wealth my soul hath won!

"A rich light thence o'er my life's decline,

An inborn light is cast;

For the sake of the palm from the holy shrine, I bewail not my bright days past!"

THE VICTOR.

MIGHTY Ones, Love and Death!

Ye are the strong in this world of ours,

Ye meet at the banquets, ye dwell 'midst the flowers,

Thou art the victor, Love!

Thou art the fearless, the crown'd, the free,
The strength of the battle is given to thee,
The spirit from above!

Thou hast look'd on Death, and smil'd!

Thou hast borne up the reed-like and fragile form, Through the waves of the fight, through the rush of the

storm,

On field, and flood, and wild!

No! Thou art the victor, Death!

Thou comest, and where is that which spoke,

From the depths of the eye, when the spirit woke ?

Thou comest-and what is left

Of all that loved us, to say if aught

Yet loves yet answers the burning thought
Of the spirit lone and reft?

Silence is where thou art!

Silently there must kindred meet,

No smile to cheer, and no voice to greet,
No bounding of heart to heart!