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A SEA-SIDE SONG.

JOVE-LADEN from the lighted west
Thou comest with thy soul opprest
For joy of him: all up the dim,
Delicious sea blow fearlessly,
Warm wind, that art the tenderest
Of all that breathe from south or west,
Blow whispers of him up the sea!
Upon my cheek, and on my breast,
And on the lips which he hath prest,
Blow all his kisses back to me!

Far off, the dark green rocks about,

All night shines, faint and fair, the far light: Far off, the lone, late fishers' shout

From boat to boat i' the listening starlight: Far off, and fair, the sea lies bare,

Leagues, leagues beyond the reach of rowing: Up creek and cove the smooth wave swells And falls asleep; or, inland flowing,

Twinkles among the silver shells,

From sluice to sluice of shallow wells;

A Sea-side Song.

Or down dark pools of purple glowing,
Sets some forlorn star trembling there

In his own dim, dreamlike brilliancy.

And I feel the dark sails growing
Nearer, clearer, up the sea:

And I catch the warm west blowing
All my own love's sighs to me:
On the deck I hear them singing
Songs they sing in my own land;
Lights are swinging; bells are ringing;
On the deck I see him stand!

OWEN MEREDITH.

51

FLOWERS.

FLOWERS! when the Saviour's calm benignant eye
Fell on your gentle beauty; when from you
That heavenly lesson from all hearts, He drew,
Eternal, universal as the sky,

Then in the bosom of your purity

A voice He set, as in a simple shrine,

That life's quick travellers ne'er might pass you by Unwarned of that sweet oracle divine.

MRS. HEMANS.

MY LOVE.

OT as all other women are

Is she that to my soul is dear; Her glorious fancies come from far Beneath the silver evening-star,

And yet her heart is ever near.

Great feelings hath she of her own
Which lesser souls may never know;

God giveth them to her alone,

And sweet they are as any tone

Wherewith the wind may choose to blow.

Yet in herself she dwelleth not,

Although no home were half so fair;

No simplest duty is forgot;

Life hath no dim and lowly spot

That doth not in her sunshine share.

She doeth little kindnesses

Which most leave undone or despise; For nought that sets one's heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace,

Is low esteemèd in her eyes.

My Love.

She hath no scorn of common things;

And though she seem of other birth, Round us her heart entwines and clings, And patiently she folds her wings

To tread the humble paths of earth.

Blessing she is, God made her so;
And deeds of week-day holiness
Fall from her noiseless as the snow;
Nor hath she ever chanced to know
That aught were easier than to bless.

She is most fair, and thereunto

Her life doth rightly harmonize; Feeling or thought that was not true Ne'er made less beautiful the blue Unclouded heaven of her eyes.

She is a woman-one in whom

The spring-time of her childish years Hath never lost the fresh perfume, Though knowing well that life hath room For many blights and many tears.

53

J. R. LOWELL.

TRUE LOVE-ETERNAL.

HERE is a love! 'tis not the wandering fire,
That must be fed on folly or expire,

Gleam of polluted hearts, the meteor-ray

That fades as rises Reason's nobler day-
But passion made essential, holy, bright,

Like the raised dead-our dust transformed to light.
Earth has its pangs for all; its happiest breast

Not his who meets them least, but bears them best. Life must be toil! yet oh, that toil how drear,

But for this soother of its brief career!—

The charm, that virtue, beauty, fondness bind
Till the mind mingles with its kindred mind!
'Tis not the cold romancer's ecstasy,
The flame new-lit at every passing eye;
But the high impulse, which the stately soul
Feels slow engross it, but engross it whole-
Yet seeks it not, nay! turns with stern disdain
On its own weakness that can wear a chain-

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