Now I bind a perfumed letter Round your neck with silken fetter; Bear it safely, bear it well, Over mountain, lake, and dell. THE DOVE'S ERRAND. While the darkness is profound You may fly along the ground, But when Morning's herald sings, From the palace of the west, Stay, then, feathered darling, stay- And the keenness of your eye. By the time the second eve Comes, your journey you'll achieve, And above a gentle vale Will on easy pinion sail. In that vale with dwellings strown One is standing all alone. White it rises 'mid the leaves, Woodbines clamber o'er its eaves, 261 262 THE DOVE'S ERRAND. By a lattice, wreathed with flowers, Envied dove, behold a maid! She will meet your searching eye. Seraphs have not purer rest; She your weary plumes will kiss- From your neck her fingers fine THE DOVE'S ERRAND. Mine, yes, mine-oh, would that I Then I should not send you, dove, On an errand to my love; For I'd brave the sharpest gale, At the early dawn of day, She will send you on your way, O'er the mountain, o'er the vale, Never, never poise a plume, Though beneath you Edens bloom; Never, never think of rest, 'Till Night's shadow turns your breast 263 LEILA. BY GEORGE HILL. WHEN first you look upon her face You little note beside The timidness, that still betrays The beauties it would hide: But, one by one, they look out from Her blushes and her eyes; And still the last, the loveliest Like stars from twilight skies. And thoughts go sporting through her mind, Like children among flowers; And deeds of gentle goodness are The measure of her hours. In soul or face, she bears no trace Of one from Eden driven; But, like the rainbow, seems, though born Of earth, a part of Heaven. |