VOL. II.

POEMS

OF A LATER DATE.

TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS,

Who, when Henry reasoned with him calmly, asked,

"If he did not feel for him.”

"Do I not feel!" The doubt is keen as steel.
Yea, I do feel-most exquisitely feel;

My heart can weep, when from my downcast eye
I chase the tear, and stem the rising sigh:
Deep buried there I close the rankling dart,
And smile the most when heaviest is my heart.
On this I act-whatever pangs surround,
'Tis magnanimity to hide the wound.

When all was new, and life was in its spring,
I liv'd an unlov'd solitary thing;

Even then I learnt to bury deep from day,
The piercing cares that wore my youth away.
Even then I learnt for others' cares to feel,

Even then I wept I had not power to heal;

Even then, deep-sounding through the nightly gloom,

I heard the wretched's groan, and mourn'd the wretched's

doom.

Who were my friends in youth ?-The midnight fire

The silent moon-beam, or the starry choir;

To these I 'plain'd, or turn'd from outer sight,

To bless my lonely taper's friendly light;

I never yet could ask, howe'er forlorn,
For vulgar pity mixt with vulgar scorn;
The sacred source of woe I never ope,
My breast's my coffer, and my God's my hope.
But that I do feel, time, my friend, will shew,
Though the cold croud the secret never know;

With them I laugh—yet when no eye can see,

I

weep for nature, and I weep for thee.

Yes, thou did'st wrong me, * * *; I fondly thought,
In thee I'd found the friend my heart had sought;
I fondly thought that thou could'st pierce the guise,
And read the truth that in my bosom lies;

I fondly thought ere Time's last days were gone,
Thy heart and mine had mingled into one!
Yes-and they yet will mingle. Days and years
Will fly, and leave us partners in our tears:
We then shall feel that friendship has a power,
To soothe affliction in her darkest hour;
Time's trial o'er, shall clasp each other's hand,
And wait the passport to a better land.

Thine,

Half past 11 o'clock at night.

H. K. WHITE.