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THE VOICE OF HER I LOVE.

How sweet at close of silent eve,

The harp's responsive sound,

How sweet the vows that ne'er deceive,
And deeds by virtue crown'd;
How sweet to sit beneath a tree,

In some delightful grove,

But ah! more soft, more sweet to me,
The voice of her I love.

Whene'er she joins the village train,
To hail the new-born day;
Mellifluous notes compose each strain,
Which zephyrs waft away:
The frowns of fate I calmly bear,
In humble sphere I move,

Content and blest whene'er I hear

The voice of her I love.

THERE'S A LIGHT IN HER LAUGHING EYE.

THERE'S a light in her laughing eye,

A sparkling beam from the mind within;

As the lightning's flash in the sky,

'Tis a gleam from the world that knows no sin.

There's a charm in her gracious smile,

A charm that drives each doubt away:

As the dawn to some favour'd isle,

Is the dawn of hope to some glorious day.

O, there's a charm in her gentle sigh,
A voice that whispers of joy and love;

As the murmuring breeze in its melody,

'Tis a whisper we catch from the blest above!

SONG.

FAREWELL! thou hast broken the chain,
Which the power of thy beauty had made:

Yet deep in my spirit the pain

May linger, till life has decayed.

I loved thee-how fervently, none
Less lonely and sad can divine:
As the eye of the blind seeks the sun,
So my eye sought lustre from thine.

'Tis over

and none can restore

The beautiful dreams that are past; And now I can only deplore

That they were too brilliant to last.

One word, and but one must be said;
Let it sound in the heart like a knell;
Though each gentle emotion be dead,

Thou wilt weep when thou hearest, Farewell!

KINDRED HEARTS.

Он! ask not, hope thou not too much

Of sympathy below;

Few are the hearts whence one same touch, Bids the same fountain flow;

Few, and by still conflicting powers,

Forbidden here to meet,

Such ties would make this life of ours
Too fair for aught so fleet.

It may be that thy brother's eye
Sees not as thine, which turns,
In such deep reverence, to the sky
Where the rich sunset burns;
It may be that the breath of spring,
Born amidst violets lone,

A rapture o'er thy soul can bring,
A dream to his unknown.

The tune that speaks of other times-
A sorrowful delight!

The melody of distant chimes;

The sound of waves by night:

The wind that with so many a tone
Some chord within can thrill;

These may have language all thine own,
To him a mystery still.

Yet scorn not thou for this the true
And steadfast love of years;

The kindly, that from childhood grew,
The faithful to thy tears!

If there be one that o'er the dead
Hath in thy grief borne part,

And watched through sickness by thy bed,
Call his a kindred heart.

But for these bonds all perfect made,
Wherein bright spirits blend,

Like sister flowers of one sweet shade,
With the same breeze that bend:
For that full bliss of thought allied,
Never to mortals given,-

Oh! lay thy lovely dreams aside,
Or lift them into heaven.

SONNET.

BE earnest!-why shouldst thou for custom's sake,
Lay a cold hand upon thy heart's warm pulse,
And crush those feelings back which, uttered, make
Links in the chain of love? Why thus convulse
A soul that overflows with sympathy

For kindred souls, when thou art called to be
The Heart's Apostle, loving, pure and true?
The smooth hypocrisies, the polished lies,
The cold dead forms and hollow mockeries
Current among the many, by the few

Who know their manhood, should be held in scorn!
Speak freely thy free thought—and other souls
To thine shall answer-as from living coals
Together kindled, light is born!

MARRIAGE HYMN.

NOT for the summer hour alone,
When skies resplendent shine,

And youth and pleasure fill the throne,
Our hearts and hands we join;

But for those stern and winter days
Of sorrow, pain, and fear,

When Heaven's wise discipline doth make
Our earthly journey drear.

Nor for this span of life alone,

Which like a blast doth fly,
And, as the transient flower of grass,
Just blossom-droop and die;

But for a being without end,

This vow of love we take;

Grant us, O God! one home at last,
For our Reedemer's sake.

66.

THE PRIDE OF THE VALLEY.

-they are of the sky,

And from our earthly memory fade away."

HER cheek was pure and pale as snow,
Her tresses dark as night,

That falling o'er the marble brow
Half veiled its lovely white.

Sadness was in her mournful eye,
And Sorrow's fading trace
Told that her home was in the sky,
That earth was not her place.

Her's was a quick inspiring glance,
A look of constancy:

Like the fixed gaze, from which in trance,
We strive in vain to flee.

There was a gentleness withal
Beneath the downcast lid,
As if there were a rise and fall
Of gentleness they hid.

She walked amid the youthful ring,

And all were gay and glad;

She touched her harp's most plaintive string, And all were mute and sad.

But fever came to lip and cheek,

Dim grew her radiant eye,
And now and then a hectic streak
Betokened she must die.

And thus she faded from their sight
As a fair fragile flower,

That slowly falls beneath the blight
And scorch of noontide power.

They made her grave within the ground
Where all her kindred sleep,

And often visited the mound

To strew fresh flowers and weep.

The stone that tells her simple tale
Is mossed o'er and gray,

But her memory in her own loved vale
Hath never passed away.

SONG.

OH, stay with me, bright one, I cried,
Within so still retreat :

We'll wander this wild stream beside,
And list its gently tinkling tide
In merry measures beat!

We'll stray adown the greenwood glade,
Where balmy breezes play;

Where sweetly spreads the shifting shade,
And fragrant flowerets spring and fade
Throughout the gladsome day!

We'll gently tread yon grassy green
With "Fairy rings" inwove;
Where 'neath the May-moon's silv'ry sheen,
Mid sportive Sprites, the Sylphid Queen
Loved long ago to rove!

We'll rest us on yon mossy banks,
Where Elfin lovers strayed,
When hither sped, the roguish ranks
Of Fays and Fairies played their pranks,
And mirthful music made!

We'll gain the grove where blithe abound
The song-bird, and the bee;

And thrilling thoughts shall throng around,
As still we catch the gushing sound

Of Nature's minstrelsy!

L

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