For sleep,-too like realities:
Soon shall I see those hidden eyes!
Thou wakest, and, starting from the ground,
In dear amazement look'st around;
Like one who, little given to roam,
Wonders to find herself from home!
But, when a stanger meets thy view,
Glistens thine eye with wilder hue.
A moment's thought who I may be,
Blends with thy smiles of courtesy.
Fair was that face as break of dawn,
When o'er its beauty sleep was drawn
Like a thin veil that half-conceal'd
The light of soul, and half-reveal'd.
While thy hush'd heart with visions wrought,
Each trembling eye-lash moved with thought,
And things we dream, but ne'er can speak,
Like clouds came floating o'er thy cheek,
Such summer-clouds as travel light,
When the soul's heaven lies calm and bright;
Till thou awok'st,-then to thine eye
Thy whole heart leapt in ecstasy!
And lovely is that heart of thine,
Or sure these eyes could never shine
With such a wild, yet bashful glee,
Gay, half-o'ercome timidity!
Nature has breath'd into thy face
A spirit of unconscious grace;
A spirit that lies never still,
And makes thee joyous 'gainst thy will.
As sometimes o'er a sleeping lake
Soft airs a gentle ripling make,
Till, ere we know, the strangers fly,
And water blends again with sky.
Oh! happy sprite! did'st thou but know
What pleasures through my being flow
From thy soft eyes, a holier feeling
From their blue light could ne'er be stealing,
But thou wouldst be more loth to part,
And give me more of that glad heart!
Oh! gone thou art! and bearest hence
The glory of thy innocence.
But with deep joy I breathe the air
That kiss'd thy cheek, and fann'd thy hair,
And feel though fate our lives must sever,
Yet shall thy image live forever!
ORIGINAL POETRY.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.
TO AN EARLY VIOLET.
WHY lovely stranger rear thy head;
Within this spot so wild and sere?
No hand of lover decks thy bed,
No feet of beauty linger here.
Why waste thy fragrance here, ah! why?
Seek'st thou fond welcome at my home?
The tyrant Care has dimm'd that eye,
Which lov'd o'er Nature's breast to roam.
She, kind instructress, taught in youth,
My simple heart a feeling true:
A taste for science, friendship, truth;
But ting'd the boon with Sorrow's hue.
As yet no tepid breezes blow,
From realms where golden Summer sleeps;
The gloomy monarch, Winter, slow
Retires across the northern steeps.
O hide thee! evening's vapours chill
Shall soon thy tender flow'rets shroud;
Adown the base of yonder hill,
I see intwine the gath'ring cloud.
Why, solitary stranger, why
So anxious to behold the day?
The sun that wak'd thy morning sigh,
Mourns now obscur'd his evening ray.
And see, where on untiring wing
The swallow flees the spreading rack;
Precursor of the coming spring,
He hies him to the goddess back.
Hark! how the northern tempest swells,
Amid the groves of murmuring pine!
Forsaken beauty shut thy bells,
For never ending night is thine.
But long as blushing Love shall sigh
In willing ears the tender vow,
So long Hyperion's amorous eye,
Shall ne'er view sweeter flower than thou.
The night is past, the storm is o'er,
And Nature wakes from wonted rest;
I'll give this little wither'd flower,
Asylum in my aching breast:-
Its fate and mine so well agree,
"Twill teach me earthly hopes are vain: For faithless Laura smil'd on me,
Then broke my heart with cold disdain.
SPRING IN PHILADELPHIA COUNTY.
Apostrophe to the Loxia Cardinalis.
Crested bird of plumage red
Com'st to see is winter fled?
Inciter to the farmer's toil,
Welcome to our grateful soil!
Yet still the frost endures the morn
Spangles the swamp and studs the thorn,
Its brilliant gems on every bush,
Unmelting, slight Aurora's blush;
And pendent willows, crystals weeping,
Still inform us Sol is sleeping.
Pretty bird of plumage red
Thou stayst!then sure is winter fled.
Quickly the cold dispels. Each stream
Swells high with joy. What fishes teem
Swift ascending from the sea,
To bathe in fresh variety.
Our steady sunshine warmer glowing,
Light more flaval round us throwing
Glads our eyes, and sprights the veins
Of our misses, and our swains.
Pretty bird of plumage red
Thou bidest here, and winter's fled.
Now smoothly roll your giant tides
Rivers of freedom! safely rides
The anchor'd vessel; joyous sounds
The "yoe heave oh," along your bounds,
The sailor bending o'er the yard,
Gaily performs his toil so hard.
And soon descend with swelling sails
Favoured by Zephyr's steadying gales
Fleets of gallant merchantmen
From the prospering town of Penn,
No icy rocks the waves now bear
Dertructive of the pilot's care.
Pretty bird of plumage red
Well notest thou the winter's fled.
To where rough cataracts in pede,
Now the shoaling shad proceed
With herrings sporting in their van
Thicker and broader in the span
Than those which seek old Scotia's soil
And freer from the cloying oil.
Truly like herring they appear
Though but the shad-fry of last year.
The catfish follow swift in train
Sweeter than eel, than eel more sane,
And even rockfish, quit the caves
Of Neptune, for our river waves.
Pretty bird of plumage red
Thou seekst to work thy hymen bed.
Thou sweetly singst thou pretty bird,
The joys the fields to all afford!
Thou weetst some notes of nightingale,
But dost not mock sweet Philomel;
She bashful seeks the veiled recess
And boasts nor chatt'ring nor proud dress;
She joys to charm the hours of rest,
Ah, modest muse, that soothst my breast!
Pretty bird of plumage red,
Thou boldly singst, and winter's fled.
Now, as the snows retire, in russet hue,
Appears the herb that loves the dew;
Carpet of Nature! soon thy velvet blades
The tint of Hope, fresh green pervades
Though in our winter, frozen down
To garb of summer's scorched brown:
Rapid the sweet nutritious sap
Spreads gayest robes o'er Nature's lap,
Robes that for emerald bright dont yield,
Even to Erin's shambrac field.
Pretty bird of plumage red,
Thou wooest safe, for winter's fled.
And see the forests spread their bloom!
Scent we the fruit-trees' sweet perfume.
First of this free lands Spring, I hail thy birth!
Gift of the land of Eden to this western earth,
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