I Knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near,
And I said, “If there ’s peace to be found in the world,
A heart that is humble might hope for it here!”
It was noon, and on flowers that languished around...
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There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
O, the last ray of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart!
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o’er the scene...
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And doth not a meeting like this make amends
For all the long years I ’ve been wand’ring away—
To see thus around me my youth’s early friends,
As smiling and kind as in that happy day?
Though haply o’er some of your brows, as o’er mine,
The snow-fall...
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“a Temple to Friendship,” cried Laura, enchanted,
“I ’ll build in this garden; the thought is divine.”
So the temple was built, and she now only wanted
An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine.
So she flew to the sculptor, who sat down before her
...
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WREATHE the bowl
With flowers of soul,
The brightest wit can find us;
We ’ll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us!
Should Love amid
The wreaths be hid
...
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Here is one leaf reserved for me,
From all thy sweet memorials free;
And here my simple song might tell
The feelings thou must guess so well.
But could I thus, within thy mind,
One little vacant corner find,
Where no impression yet is seen,...
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THE Brilliant black eye
May in triumph let fly
All its darts without caring who feels ’em;
But the soft eye of blue,
Though it scatter wounds too,
Is much better pleased when it heals ’em!
Dear Fanny!
The black...
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How sweet the answer Echo makes
To Music at night
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away o’er lawns and lakes
Goes answering light!
Yet Love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet
Than e’er, beneath the moonlight’s star,...
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From “Irish Melodies”
O THE DAYS are gone when beauty bright
My heart’s chain wove!
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love!
New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder, calmer...
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From “Irish Melodies”
COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o’ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.
Oh! what was love made...
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