My joy, my solace, and my pride I found thee still: Whatever change our fortunes might betide Of good or ill, Worthier I was life's blessing to receive While thou didst live; All that I had of good in others' sight, Reflected shone thy virtue's borrowed light. The lute unstrung-the meals in silence ate The widowed bed-the chamber desolate, The tear at parting, and the greeting kiss, Endearments fond, and solaced hours, and all Oh! mayst thou, if permitted, from above Encompass me with ever-during love, As thou didst here: Still be my guardian spirit, lest I be Unworthy thee; Still, as on earth, thy grace celestial give, SO GUIDE MY LIFE AS THOU WOULDST HAVE ME LIVE. JOHN FISHER MURRAY. To Mary in Heaven. THOU lingering star, with lessening ray, Again thou usherst in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hearst thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah! little thought we 't was our last! Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene: The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaimed the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy blissful place of rest? Hearst thou the groans that rend his breast? Maidenhood. MAIDEN! with the meek brown eyes, Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Standing with reluctant feet, Gazing, with a timid glance, BURNS. Deep and still, that gliding stream Then, why pause with indecision, Seest thou shadows sailing by, Hearst thou voices on the shore, O, thou child of many prayers! Like the swell of some sweet tune, Childhood is the bough, where slumbered Gather, then, each flower that grows, Bear a lily in thy hand; Gates of brass cannot withstand Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, O, that dew, like balm, shall steal And that smile, like sunshine, dart LONGFELLOW. Eve describes her First Sensations. THAT day I oft remember, when from sleep Under a shade of flowers, much wondering where A shape within the watery gleam appeared |