Which time has fettered now

Things that came o'er me with a thrill,

And left me silent, sad, and still,

And threw upon my brow

A holier and a gentler cast,

That was too innocent to last.

"Tis strange how thought upon a child,
Will, like a presence, sometimes press,
And, when his pulse is beating wild,
And life itself is in excess,

When foot and hand, and ear and eye,
Are all with ardour straining high-
How in his heart will spring
A feeling whose mysterious thrall
Is stronger, sweeter far than all;
And on its silent wing,

How with the clouds he'll float away,
As wandering and as lost as they.

WILLIS.

TO A SISTER.

YES, dear one, to the envied train
Of those around, thy homage pay;
But wilt thou never kindly deign
To think of him that's far away?

88

TO A SISTER.

Thy form, thine eye, thine angel smile,

For many years I may not see;

But wilt thou not, sometimes the while, My sister, dear, remember me?

But not in Fashion's brilliant hall,
Surrounded by the gay and fair,
And thou the fairest of them all-

Oh! think not, think not of me there, But when the thoughtless crowd is gone, And hushed the voice of senseless glee, And all is silent, still, and lone,

And thou art sad, remember me.

Remember me-but, lovliest, ne'er
When, in his orbit fair and high,
The morning's glowing charioteer
Rides proudly up the blushing sky;
But when the waning moon-beam sleeps
At moon-light on that lonely lea,
And Nature's pensive spirit weeps,
In all her dews, remember me.

Remember me, I pray-but not

In Flora's gay and blooming hour,

When every brake hath found its mate, And sunshine smiles in every flower;

But when the falling leaf is sear,
And withers sadly from the tree,
And, o'er the ruins of the year,

Cold Autumn weeps, remember me.

Remember me;-but choose not, dear,
The hour when, on the gentle lake,
The sportive wavelets, blue and clear,
Soft rippling to the margin break;
But when the deaf'ning billows foam
In madness o'er the pathless sea,
Then let thy pilgrim fancy roam
Across them, and remember me.

Remember me-but not to join,

If haply some thy friends should praise, 'Tis far too dear, that voice of thine, To echo what the stranger says.

They know us not-but shouldst thou meet Some faithful friend of me and thee, Softly, sometimes, to him repeat

My name, and then remember me.

Remember me-not, I entreat,

In scenes of festal week-day joy, For then it were not kind or meet

That thought thy pleasure should alloy;

90

TO A SISTER.

But on the sacred solemn day,

And, dearest, on thy bended knee,
When thou for those thou lov'st dost pray,
Sweet spirit, then remember me.

Remember me-but not as I

On thee for ever, ever dwell,

With anxious heart and drooping eye,

And doubts 'twould grieve thee should I tell ! But in thy calm, unclouded heart, Where dark and gloomy visions flee, Oh there, my sister, be my part, And kindly there remember me.

EVERETT.

LOVE.

"Almighty love! oh, inexhausted source Of universal joy! first principle

Of all creating nature! harmony,

By which her mighty movements all are rul'd!"

ARMSTRONG.

BRIDAL SONG.

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;
Maiden-pinks, of odours faint,

Daisies, smell-less, yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true.

Primrose, first born child of Ver,

Merry spring-time's harbinger,

With her bells dim;

Oxlips in their cradles growing,

Marigold's on death-beds blowing,

Lark-heels trim.