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THERE never yet was flower fair in vain, | Ah, weary bird ! thou wilt not fly again :
Thy wings are clipped, thou canst no more de. The seasons toil that it may blow again,
The silver phantom of the perfect sphere,
Held in its bosom : in one glory now
| Not the sweet moon of bridal only — we Be as thou wouldst be in thine own clear sight, One lustre, ever at the full, shall be : And so thou wilt in all the world's erelong :
One pure and rounded light, one planet whole, For worldlings cannot, struggle as they may,
One life developed, one completed soul ! From man's great soulone great thought hideaway.
thought hideaway. For I in thee, and thou in me,
Unite our cloven halves of destiny.
I THOUGHT our love at full, but I did err; God knew his chosen time.
And from my boughs withheld the promised fruit,
Thou art become my blood, my life, my light: Deep in my soul another bond to thee
God's mercy thou, and therefore shalt endure. Thrill with that life we saw depart from her;
BAYARD TAYLOR. O mother of our angel child ! twice dear ! Death knits as well as parts, and still, I wis, Her tender radince shall infold us here,
THE DAY RETURNS, MY BOSOM BURNS.
The blissful day we twa did meet;
Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet.
And crosses o'er the sultry line, -
Than kingly robes, and crowns and globes,
Heaven gave me more ; it made thee mine. “It was our wedding-day
While day and night can bring delight, A month ago," dear heart, I hear you say.
Or nature aught of pleasure give, If months, or years, or ages since have passed,
While joys above my mind can move, I know not : I have ceased to question Time.
For thee and thee alone I live; I only know that once there pealed a chime
When that grim foe of life below Of joyous bells, and then I held you fast,
Comes in between to make us part, And all stood back, and none my right denied,
The iron hand that breaks our band, And forth we walked : the world was free and wide
It breaks my bliss, - it breaks my heart. Before us. Since that day I count my life: the Past is washed away.
THE POET'S BRIDAL-DAY SONG.
0, my love's like the steadfast sun,
Nor mirth, nor sweetest song that flows
Time, like the wingéd wind
When 't bends the flowers, Hath left no mark behind,
To count the hours !
On thee he leaves ;
Perhaps he weaves;
For joys scarce known ;
All else is flown !
I mourn and sing !
Like sudden spring!
Like a pleasant rhyme,
IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, MY LOVE.
Though I see smiling at thy feet
If thou wert by my side, my love,
How fast would evening fail In green Bengala's palmy grove,
Listening the nightingale ! If thou, my love, wert by my side,
My babies at my knee, How gayly would our pinnace glide
O'er Gunga's mimic sea /
I miss thee at the dawning gray,
When, on our deck reclined, In careless ease my limbs I lay
And woo the cooler wind.
I miss thee when by Gunga's stream
My twilight steps I guide, But most beneath the lamp's pale beam
I miss thee from my side.
I spread my books, my pencil try,
The lingering noon to cheer, But miss thy kind, approving eye,
Thy meek, attentive ear.
THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE.
But when at morn and eve the star
Beholds me on my knee,
Thy prayers ascend for me.
My course be onward still, O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads,
O'er bleak Almorah's hill.
How many summers, love,
Have I been thine ? How many days, thou dove,
Hast thou been mine?
That course nor Delhi's kingly gates, Nor how I doated on you ; 0, how proud I was Nor mild Malwah detain ;
of you ! For sweet the bliss us both awaits
But did I love you more than now, when this By yonder western main.
old ring was new? Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, Across the dark blue sea ;
| No- no! no fairer were you then than at this But ne'er were hearts so light and gay
hour to me; As then shall nicet in thee !
And, dear as life to me this day, how could you
dearer be ? As sweet your face might be that day as now it
is, 't is true; JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.
But did I know your heart as well when this old
ring was new?
O partner of my gladness, wife, what care, what
grief is there But now your brow is beld, John,
For me you would not bravely face, with me Your locks are like the snaw;
you would not share ? But blessings on your frosty pow,
O, what a weary want had every day, if wanting John Anderson, my jo.
you, John Anderson, my jo, John,
Wanting the love that God made mine when
this old ring was new!
Years bring fresh links to bind us, wife, — young
voices that are here: But hand in hand we 'll go :
Young faces round our fire that make their And sleep thegither at the foot,
mother's yet more dear; John Anderson, my jo.
Young loving hearts your care each day makes
yet more like to you, More like the loving heart made mine when this
old ring was new. THE WORN WEDDING-RING.
Your wedding-ring wears thin, dear wife ; ah, And blessed be God ! all he has given are with summers not a few,
us yet; around Since I put it on your finger first, have passed Our table every precious life lent to us still is o'er me and you ;
found. And, love, what changes we have seen, - what Though cares we've known, with hopeful hearts cares and pleasures, too, —
the worst we've struggled through ; Since you became my own dear wife, when this Blessed be his name for all his love since this old ring was new !
old ring was new!
pot of The past is dear, its sweetness still our memo0, blessings on that happy day, the happiest of | T
ries treasure yet ; my life, When, thanks to God, your low, sweet “Yes” The grels we've borne, together borne, we
not now forget. made you iny loving wife! Your heart will say the same, I know; that|
| Whatever, wife, the future brings, heart unto
heart still true, day's as dear to you, —
We'll share as we have shared all else since this That day that made me yours, dear wife, when this old ring was new.
old ring was new.
How well do I remember now your young sweet And if God spare us 'mongst our sons and daughface that day!
ters to grow old, How fair you were, how dear you were, my We know his goodness will not let your heart tongue could hardly say ;
or mine grow cold.