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They tell me health’s transparent flower glows freshly on thy

cheek, They say that in the festal hall thy looks of rapture speak; They know that boundless love is mine, but do not read my heart, And little dream their friendly words awake an inward smart.


I well might weep to learn that care had blanched thy lovely brow,
And yet thine happier fate calls forth no grateful gladness now;
I judge from this sad jealous breast, and deem if thou wert true,
Thou could'st not feel a moment's mirth, nor wear that rosy hue.


I should not thus forget, dear girl, that early years are bright, That hearts so young and pure as thine, are touched with holy

light, And like the fountain's crystal streams, that through spring mea

dows run, Reflect alone the fairest things that kindle in the sun.


They tell me too, that ʼmid the crowd thou hast a smile for all,
That oft upon the lowliest ear thy kindest accents fall :
And oh! I doubly mourn my fate, and breathe an envious sigh,
To think the stranger hears that voice, and meets that radiant


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And yet ’tis selfish thus to grieve—'tis base to doubt thy truth,
Those looks and tones of tenderness beseem thy gentle youth,
And if thy soul of virtue's charms displays a bounteous store,
Thou need’st not, sweet one, love the less, though I must love the



In fancy's trance I kiss thy brow, and clasp thee to my breast,But ah! how soon that dream departs, like sun-light in the west ! And then my path is dark as their's who wander through the

night When suddenly the fitful winds have quenched a cheering light.


And yet not wholly comfortless is home's deserted cell,
For there thy written words remain of faithful love to tell ;
And these are symbols of the soul that life's fond records save,
E'en when the hand that traced the lines is mouldering in the

grave !


And still around my neck is hung, that last dear gift of thine,
So like a fairy talisman-a spell almost divine !
I hold it in my trembling hand-I touch thy braided hair-
I do but press the secret spring—and see thy features fair !

SONNET-TO MY TWIN BOYS. Ye seem not, sweet ones, formed for human care Your dreams are tinged by heaven ;--your glad eyes meet A charm in every scene ; for all things greet The dawn of life with hues divinely fair ! llow brightly yet your laughing features wear The bloom of early joy! Your bosoms beat With no bewildering fears, -your cup is sweetThe manna of delight is melting there! Twin buds of life and love !--my hope and pride! Fair priceless jewels of a father's heart! Stars of my home! No saddening shadows hide Your beauty now. Your stainless years depart Like glittering streams that softly murmur by, Or white-winged birds that pierce the sunny sky!

On! now glad Nature bursts upon mine eye!
The night of care is o'er. Deep rapture thrills
My waking heart; for Life's deforming ills,
That come like shadows when the storm is nigh,
Foreboding strife, at length have floated by
And left my spirit free !- The skylark trills
His matin song; the cloud-resembling hills
In dim cerulean beauty slumbering lie,
And form the throne of Peace; the silver stream
Is sparkling in the sun-its bright waves seem
Instinct with joy; the verdant breast of earth
Teems with delight.-- The past is like a dream,
A dull trance broken by the voice of mirth,
Or grey mist scatteerd by the morning beam!




The skies are blue as summer seas—the plains are green and

brightThe groves are fair as Eden's bowers—the streams are liquid lightThe sun-rise bursts upon the scene, like glory on the soul, And richly round the couch of Day the twilight curtains roll.


But oh! though beautiful it be, I yearn to leave the land, -
It glows not with the holier hues that tinge my native strand,
Where shadows of departed dreams still float o'er hill and grove,
And mirrored in the wanderer's heart, immortalize its love!

III. I gaze upon the stranger's face—I tread on foreign ground, And almost deem Enchantment's wand hath raised up all

around : My spirit may not mingle yet with scenes so wild and strange, And keeps in scorn of fleshly bonds its old accustomed range.


In that sweet hour when Fancy's spell inebriates the brain,
And breathing forms to phantoms turn, and lost friends live again,
Oh! what a dear delirious joy unlocks the source of tears
While like unprisoned birds we seek the haunts of happier years.



A SUDDEN gloom came o’er me;

A gathering throng of fears
Enshrouded all before me,

And through the mist of tears
I saw the coming years.


'Tis strange how transient sorrow

Can mortal sight delude ;
To-day is dark—to-morrow

Shall no dull shade intrude
To tinge a brighter mood.


I heard the low winds sighing

Above the cheerless earth,
And deem'd the hope of dying

Was all that life was worth,
And scoffed at human mirth.


From that wild dream awaking,

And through the clouds of care A mental sunshine breaking,

I marvelled how despair
Could haunt a world so fair.

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