I send with deep regards of heart and head, [thee: Sweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me. TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER RECOVERY FROM A FEVER. WHY need I say, Louisa dear! How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fear, The sunny showers, the dappled sky, Believe me, while in bed you lay, Each and seemed to say, eye looked up Besides, what vexed us worse, we knew, In the place where you were going: But thoughts like these are idle things, But in my sleep to you I fly: But then one wakes, and where am I? Sleep stays not though a monarch bids: HOME-SICK. WRITTEN IN GERMANY. IS sweet to him, who all the week T Through city crowds must push his way, To stroll alone through fields and woods, And sweet it is, in summer bower, One's own dear children feasting round, But what is all, to his delight, Who having long been doomed to roam, Throws off the bundle from his back, Before the door of his own home? Home-sickness is a wasting pang; This feel I hourly more and more: There's healing only in thy wings, Thou Breeze that play'st on Albion's shore! ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. D° you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet and thrush say, "I love and I love!” In the winter they're silent-the wind is so strong, What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving-all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he— "I love my Love, and my Love loves me!" A CHILD'S EVENING PRAYER. E RE on my bed limbs I lay, my God grant me grace my prayers to say; O God! preserve my mother dear In strength and health for many a year; And, O! preserve my father too, And, O! preserve my brothers both Awake to thy eternal day! Amen. THE VISIONARY HOPE. AD lot, to have no hope! Though lowly kneeling his Would fain entreat for some sweet breath of healing, Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams, That Hope, which was his inward bliss and boast, Which waned and died, yet ever near him stood, Though changed in nature, wander where he wouldFor Love's despair is but Hope's pining ghost! For this one hope he makes his hourly moan, He wishes and can wish for this alone! Pierced, as with light from Heaven, before its gleams (So the love-stricken visionary deems) Disease would vanish, like a summer shower, THE HAPPY HUSBAND. FT, oft methinks, the while with Thee Tofthe, as from the heart, thy dear And dedicated name, I hear A promise and a mystery, A pledge of more than passing life, A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep! Of transient joys, that ask no sting From jealous fears, or coy denying ; And into tenderness soon dying, Wheel out their giddy moment, then Resign the soul to love again ;— A more precipitated vein Of notes, that eddy in the flow Of smoothest song, they come, they go, Its own sweet self f—a love of Thee That seems, yet cannot greater be! |