ANNA MARIA LOWELL.

IN ABSENCE.

THESE rugged wintry days I scarce could bear,
Did I not know, that, in the early spring,
When wild March-winds upon their errands sing,

Thou wouldst return, bursting on this still air,

Like those same winds, when, startled from their lair, They hunt up violets, and free swift brooks

From icy cares, even as thy clear looks

Bid my heart bloom and sing and break all care:
When drops with welcome rain the April day,
My flowers shall find their April in thine eyes,
Save there the rain in dreamy clouds doth stay,
As loath to fall out of those happy skies;
Yet sure, my love, thou art most like to May,
That comes with steady sun when April dies.

MRS. ELIZABETH JESUP EAMES.

NIGHT-SCENES.

I.

TWILIGHT.

THE holiest hour of earth, methinks, is thine,
O Twilight, meekly fair! Welcome to all
When, soft and sweet, thy vestal light divine

Over life's toil-worn travellers doth fall.
Then the world pauses from its busy cares;
Then play-tired children say their evening prayers;
Then the low cradle-hymn the mother weaves;
The bird folds up its wing, the flower its leaves.
Yea! hallowed of all hours since the time

God's presence blest it in the cedar shade,

When the leaves thrilled with joy, though man, afraid, Shrank from his voice, and fled the Guest divine!

That peerless Paradise is lost, but still,

O Father! let this hour be free from touch of ill.

II.

THE MOON.

IN her serene and solemn loveliness

She looketh down, and meets a human gaze :
Her fair familiar face, through the thin haze
Of dewy night, revealeth not the less
Her pure and perfect beauty. Fairy Moon,
Thy pearly finger silvereth the paper
Whereon I write : small need of lamp, or taper,
In this starred midnight's haunted hour of noon.
And O, the heaven-touched radiance of thy brow
Is like a dream of poetry, enchanting

All the dark depths of my lone heart, beating
With one bright vision of the past, that now

Shines seraph-like, all sanctified and sainted.

But for that spiritual presence, O how oft my heart had fainted!

III.

THERE is a star

THE STAR.

Eve's fairest and her first

That with unaltered beauty ever shineth :

What visions of the heart its light once nursed!

Ah! Hope's fair hand no more her rose-wreath twineth!

Beneath thy silvery rays, O peerless Star,

The beautiful floats dimly and afar.

The fair ideal wrought of the poet's dreaming
Hath left me with an ever-pining heart:
No more my fancy, with bright visions teeming,
Brings to these idle lines the inspiréd art,

O Angel of my youth! return once more,

And 'neath this star, which is to me a shrine, The enchanted lamp of poesy restore,

And fill my lone heart with its light divine!

IV.

A CLOUD.

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YON delicate cloud of faintest violet,

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Floating in peerless beauty 'long the sky, Heeds not the eternal stars around it set,

But silent as a dream goes gliding by.

O wand'ring cloud! fair child of dream and vision! Radiant illusion, shining vapor! thou

Art like our ideal pictures of Elysium,

Too bright and brief, as from thy beauteous brow The changeful glories pass! As thou to heaven, Was Hope, the angel, to my future given. Her wing is folded now! not long she wore The dew of morning on her pearly plume, Cloud-like she passed away; - O, nevermore Will Hope return to gild life's grief and gloom!