TO MY DAUGHTER, ON HER BIRTHDAY. DEAR Fanny! nine long years ago, Whilst lowed the newly-wakened herds- Along with that uprising dew Tears glistened in my eyes, though few, To hail a dawning quite as new, To me, as time: It was not sorrow — · not annoy· So mayst thou live, dear! many years, Not without smiles, nor yet from tears Too strictly kept: When first thy infant littleness I folded in my fond caress, The greatest proof of happiness -I wept. TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS MOTHER. LOVE thy mother, little one! Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Gaze upon her living eyes, And mirror back her love for thee, - Press her lips the while they glow O! revere her raven hair! Pray for her at eve and morn, That heaven may long the stroke defer,For thou mayst live the hour forlorn When thou wilt ask to die with her. Pray for her at eve and morn! STANZAS. FAREWELL life! my senses swim, Colder, colder, colder still, Welcome life! the spirit strives! TO A FALSE FRIEND. OUR hands have met, but not our hearts; I only know I loved in vain ; Our hands have met, but not our hearts; Our hands will never meet again! Then farewell to heart and hand! If my wrong could e'er forget Our hands have joined, but not our hearts: I would our hands had never met! THE POET'S PORTION. WHAT is a mine -- a treasury a dowerA magic talisman of mighty power? A poet's wide possession of the earth. He has the enjoyment of a flower's birth Before its budding ere the first red streaks,—. And winter cannot rob him of their cheeks. Look - if his dawn be not as other men's! Twenty bright flushes ere another kens The first of sunlight is abroad-he sees Its golden 'lection of the topmost trees, And opes the splendid fissures of the morn. When do his fruits delay, when doth his corn Linger for harvesting? Before the leaf Is commonly abroad, in his piled sheaf The flagging poppies lose their ancient flame. No sweet there is, no pleasure I can name, But he will sip it first-before the lees. "Tis his to taste rich honey, ere the bees Are busy with the brooms. He may forestall June's rosy advent for his coronal; Before the expectant buds upon the bough, Twining his thoughts to bloom upon his brow. Leaves are but wings, on which the summer flies, So that what there is steeped shall perish never, But live and bloom, and be a joy forever. TIME, HOPE, AND MEMORY. I HEARD a gentle maiden, in the spring, "Only for roses that your chance may throw- Thy love before thee, I must tread behind, "Her face is smiling, and her voice is sweet : "Only if wakened to sad truth, at last, The bitterness to come, and sweetness past; When thou art vext, then, turn again, and see SONG. O LADY, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: And blossoms on the tree; |