SONNET. LADY, whom my beloved loves so well! And the bright flood of burning light, that shineth In his dark eyes, is poured into thine; When thou shalt lie enfolded to his heart, E'er gave my love; round that, my wild thoughts dwell In one eternal pang of memory. ΤΟ WHEN the dawn O'er hill and dale Throws her bright veil, Oh, think of me! When the rain With starry showers Fills all the flowers, Oh, think of me! When the wind Sweeps along, Loud and strong, Oh, think of me! When the laugh With silver sound Goes echoing round, Oh, think of me! When the night With solemn eyes Looks from the skies, Oh, think of me! When the air Oh, think of me! Sleeping sound Swings round and round, Oh, think of me! When thy soul O'er life's dark sea Oh, think of me! 7* WOMAN'S LOVE. A MAIDEN meek, with solemn, steadfast eyes, Keeping her soul's sweet counsel from all sight; Nor pomp, nor vanity, lead her astray, Nor aught that men call dazzling, fair, or bright: For pity, sometimes, doth she pause, and stay Those whom she meeteth mourning, for her heart Knows well in suffering how to bear its part. Patiently lives she thro' each dreary day, Looking with little hope unto the morrow; TO MRS. I NEVER shall forget thee-'tis a word Thou oft must hear, for surely there be none On whom thy wondrous eyes have ever shone But for a moment, or who e'er have heard Thy voice's deep impassioned melody, Can lose the memory of that look or tone. But, not as these, do I say unto thee, I never shall forget thee:-in thine eyes, Thou art not like the scenes in which I found thee, Over the dangerous waves 'twill surely steer |