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But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty

stood, Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the

plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland,

glade and glen.

And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such

days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter

home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the

trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,

[more. And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no

And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my

side : In the cold moist earth we laid her when the forest cast

the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; Yet not unmeet it was, that one, like that young friend of

ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.




He loved her to the last. And when they parted
He spake not of farewell — but bent his brow
Into her hand, that lay among his hair,
Which gathered o'er its whiteness — dark, and damp,
And scattered like the locks of one whose dreams
Have made his pillow like Procrustes' bed,
And his night sleepless. And her Parian hand,
Veined like the marble that it rivaled, shook
Over his forehead, as the hand of one
Whose spirit is o’ermastered by her tears —
And tells you of her sobbings — while her face
Is bowed and veiled before you. She had turned
Away. She could not gaze nor look on him.
Her fancies were too fearful. She believed
Their parting was for ever and her heart
Wept like her eyes! She had heard whispers come
Often, at midnight when the storm was loud,
That told of distant seas - and whirlpools there-
Which he too soon must buffet. Yet her lips
IIad scarce done with repeating of the vow

She made him at the altar- and his voice
Low, but with music she could ne'er forget,
Like clarion rung in her rememb’ring ear.

But they must part. His call was to a land
Where his white brow might blacken with the shade
Of rank disease —and hot and withering airs
Devour the beauty of his manliness,
And shrink those hands to talons, that now lay
Like sculpture on her own. He must go forth
Where men were like the wolves that swept the land,
And blood was poured for pastime. He must go
Where love must be forgotten--and the heart
Sink inward — silent, dungeoned, and forlorn.


Again he bent above her, but spake not.
She raised her lips and eye.-She was alone.

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List! thou child of wind and sea,

Tell me of the far off deep, Where the tempest's wing is free,

And the waters never sleep. Thou perchance the storm hath aided,

In its works of stern despair, Or perchance thy hand hath braided,

In deep caves, the mermaid's hair.

Wave! now on the golden sands,

Silent as thou art, and broken, Bearest thou not from distant strands

To my heart some pleasant token? Tales of mountains of the south,

Spangles of the ore of silver, Which with playful singing mouth,

Thou hast leaped on high to pilfer?

Mournful Wave! I deemed thy song

Was telling of a floating prison, Which when tempests swept along,

And the mighty winds were risen, Foundered in the ocean's grasp,

While the brave and fair were dying. Wave! didst mark a white hand clasp

In thy folds as thou wert flying ?

Hast thou seen the hallowed rock,

Where the pride of kings reposes, Crowned with many a misty lock,

Wreathed with samphire green and roses? Or with joyous playful leap

Hast thou been a tribute flinging Up that bold and jutting steep,

Pearls upon the south wind stringing ?

Faded Wave! a joy to thee

Now thy flight and toil are over! Oh! may my departure be

Calm as thine, thou ocean rover! When this soul's last joy or mirth

On the shore of time is driven, Be its lot like thine on earth,

To be lost away in heaven.

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