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While of nought else I think; to him I give
That is the hour, beloved of Heaven,
And oh! in man's most dreary hour,
sight, And gilds with brighter beam the deep’ning night.
Deck not with gems that lovely form for me,
How oft, when half in tears, thou hast beguiled The sorrow from my heart, and I have smiled. Oh ! form'd alike my tears and smiles to share, I must have loved thee hadst thou not been fair.
Time on that cheek his withering hand may press, He may
do all but make me love thee less ; The mind defies him, and thy charm lies there, I must have loved thee hadst thou not been fair.
THE PRAYER OF EARTHLY LOVE.
She lifted up
Unseen she pray'd, With all the still, small whispers of the night, And with the searching glances of the stars, And with her God alone ! Her sad, sweet voice, while trembling o'er her head The dark leaves thrill’d with prayer the tearful
prayer Of woman's quenchless yet repentant lovę.
“ Father of spirits, hear !
Look on the inmost soul, to Thee reveal'd; Look on the fountain of the burning tear,
Before thy sight in solitude unseald !
“ Hear, Father ! hear and aid !
If I have loved too well, if I have shed,
In my vain fondness, o'er a mortal head, Gifts, on Thy shrine, my God, more fitly laid ;
“ If I have sought to live
But in one light, and made a mortal eye
The lonely star of my idolatry,
« Chasten'd and school'd at last,
No more my struggling spirit burns, But fix'd on Thee, from that vain worship turns ! -What have I said ? the deep dream is not past.
“ Yet hear! If still I love,
Oh! still too fondly — if, for ever seen,
An earthly image comes my soul between, And thy calm glory, Father, throned above;
“ If still a voice is near
(Even while I strive these wanderings to control)
An earthly voice, disquieting my soul, With its deep music, too intensely dear ;
“ O, Father, draw to Thee My lost affections back !.
- the dreaming eyes Clear from the mist sustain the heart that dies Give the worn soul once more its pinions free!
“I must love on, O God !
This bosom must love on! but let Thy breath Touch and make pure the flame that knows not
death, Bearing it up to Heaven, Love's own abode !"
I do love violets!
remain But the rich breathing of their leaves is past. The violet breath of love is purity.
In joyous youth what soul hath never known
the magic of a name ?
Who that would ask a heart to dulness wed,