Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

INCONSTANCY.

SINCE there's no help, come! let us kiss and

part;

Nay! I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea! glad with all my heart,
That thus so clearly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever; cancel all our vows;
And, when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen on either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.—
Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death;
And Innocence is closing up his eyes-

Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

REGRET.

DRAYTON.

I LOVED him not; and yet, now he is gone,
I feel I am alone.

For reasons, not to love him, once I sought
And wearied all my thought

To vex myself and him. I now would give
My love, could he but live.

W. S. LANDOR.

THE IRISH EMIGRANT.

HE place is little changed, Mary,
The day is bright as then,
The lark's loud sound is in my ear,
And the corn is green again.

But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath warm on my cheek,
And I still keep listening for the words
You never more will speak.

I am very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;
But oh! they love the better still
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessin' and my pride:
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good brave heart, Mary,

That still kept hoping on,

When the trust in God had left my soul,

And my arm's young strength was gone.

There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow-
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile,
When your heart was fit to break,
When the hunger pain was gnawin' there,
And you hid it for my sake!

I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore-
Oh! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more.

LADY DUFFERIN.

[ocr errors]

THE TRUE WIFE.

TURN to thee in time of need,
And never turn in vain ;
I see thy fond and fearless smile,
And hope revives again.

It gives me strength to struggle on,
Whate'er the strife may be ;

And if again my courage fail,
Again I turn to thee.

Thy timid beauty charmed me firstI breathed a lover's vow,

But little thought to find the friend,

Whose strength sustains me now; I deemed thee made for summer skies But in the stormy sea, Deserted by all former friends,

Dear love! I turn to thee.

Should e'er some keener sorrow throw
A shadow o'er my mind;

And should I, thoughtless, breathe to thee
One word that is unkind;

Forgive it, love! thy smile will set

My better feelings free,

And with a look of boundless love

I still shall turn to thee.

T. H. BAILEY.

A SONNET.

My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak,—yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go,

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she, belied with false compare.

SHAKSPEARE.

« ElőzőTovább »