To lisp thy name shall learn, Though now they can but murmur soft In gentle words of love they spoke, And I was very sure, That all thy looks were eloquent, I know that thou art beautiful,— In a sweet language that I learned Thou'st sent me from thy garden bower Its blush was eloquent, its leaves It told of virgin bloom and hope, Ah! what so fit as fragrant flowers It touched a weary stranger's heart, In sadness and alone; It minded her of days gone by, When Love's untiring hand Wove blossoms for her youthful brow, TO MISS M In many a graceful band. Ah! far away from home and friends, With something of its olden joy, When such as thou she meets! And oft in future dreams shall rise The eye and glossy curl, The soft rose-bloom and dimple Of the sweet-voiced English girl! 71 LOVE UNCHANGEABLE. BY RUFUS DAWES. YES! Still I love thee :-Time, who sets His signet on my brow, And dims my sunken eye, forgets The heart he could not bow ;Where love, that cannot perish, grows For one, alas! that little knows How love may sometimes last; Like sunshine wasting in the skies, The dew-drop hanging o'er the rose, Can never touch a leaf that blows, Though seeming to the sight; And yet it still will linger there, Like hopeless love without despair, A snow-drop in the sun! A moment finely exquisite, Alas! but only one. LOVE UNCHANGEABLE. I would not have thy married heart Nor would I tear the cords apart, That bind me so to thee; No! while my thoughts seem pure and mild, I would not have thee know, The stream that seems to thee so still, Has such a tide below! Enough! that in delicious dreams, I see thee and forget Enough, that when the morning beams, Yet, could I hope, when Time shall fall To meet thee,—and to love, I would not shrink from aught below, 73 FOUNTAIN, that springest on this grassy slope, Thy quick cool murmur mingles pleasantly, With the cool sound of breezes in the beech, Above me in the noontide. Thou dost wear No stain of thy dark birthplace; gushing up From the red mould and slimy roots of earth, Thou flashest through the sun. The mountain air, In winter, is not clearer, nor the dew That shines on mountain blossom. Thus doth God Bring, from the dark and foul, the pure and bright. |