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THE BURIED FLOWER,
IN the silence of my chamber,
Oft I hear the angel voices
That have thrill'd me long ago,Voices of my lost companions, Lying deep beneath the snow.
O, the-garden I remember,
In the gay and sunny spring, When our laughter made the thickets And the arching alleys ring!
O the merry burst of gladness!
Save to one fond ear alone!
Q the light of life that sparkled
In those bright and bounteous eyes! O the blush of happy beauty,
Tell-tale of the heart's surprise!
O the radiant light that girdled
Field and forest, land and sea, When we all were young together,
And the earth was new to me!
Where are now the flowers we tended? Wither'd, broken, branch and stem; Where are now the hopes we cherish'd? Scatter'd to the winds with them,
For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones! Nurs'd in hope and rear'd in love, Looking fondly ever upward
To the clear blue heaven above:
Smiling on the sun that cheer'd us,
Rising lightly from the rain,
Save to give it forth again:
Never shaken, save by accents
From a tongue that was not free,
O! 'tis sad to lie and reckon
All the days of faded youth,
All the words we spoke in truth.
Sever'd-were it sever'd only
O my heart! that once so truly
Kept another's time and tune, Heart, that kindled in the spring-tide, Look around thee in the noon.
Where are they who gave the impulse
All are wither'd, dropp'd, or low!
Seek the birth-place of the lily,
Dearer to the boyish dream Than the golden cups of Eden,
Floating on its slumbrous stream;
Never more shalt thou behold her,
Like a queen, above the rest.
Only still I keep her image
As a thought that cannot die, He who raised the shade of Helen Had no greater power than I.
O! I fling my spirit backward,
And I pass o'er years of pain; All I loved is rising round me,
All the lost returns again.
Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes,
With the radiant tints of yore!
Warble out in spray and thicket,
All ye choristers unseen, Let the leafy woodland echo
With an anthem to its queen!
Lo! she cometh in her beauty,
Eyes of deepest violet, beaming
With the love that knows not shame,Lips, that thrill my inmost being With the utterance of a name.
And I bend the knee before her,
O my dear and gentle lady,
Love hath bound me to thee, lady,
Since the well-remember'd day When I first beheld thee coming
In the light of lustrous May.
Not a word I dared to utter
More than he who, long ago,
When a low and solemn music
Floated through the listening grove, And the throstle's song was silenced, And the doling of the dove:
When immortal beauty open'd
All its grace to mortal sight, And the awe of worship blended
With the throbbing of delight.
As the shepherd stood before them
Own'd the magic of the spell;
And I watch'd thee ever fondly.
Watch'd thee, dearest, from afar,
Of the Indian to a star.
Thou wert still the Lady Flora
In her morning garb of bloom;
So for many a day I follow'd
For a long and weary while,
Ere thy words were few and broken
Then a mighty gush of passion
Through my inmost being ran;
And a dearer course began.
Dearer!-0, I cannot tell thee
All my error, all my weakness,
Like the wanderer of the desert,
When, across the dreary sand, Breathes the perfume from the thickets
Bordering on the promised land;
When afar he sees the palm-trees
So a fresh and glad emotion
Rose within my swelling breast,
Thou wert there with word and welcome,
Laid it, darling, at thy feet !——
O ye words that sound so hollow
Of a passion crush'd and gone?
Wherefore should I seek to kindle
Light, when all around is gloom? Wherefore should I raise a phantom O'er the dark and silent tomb?
Early wert thou taken, Mary!
In thy fair and glorious prime, Ere the bees had ceased to murmur
Through the umbrage of the lime.
Buds were blowing, waters flowing,
Birds were singing on the tree, Every thing was bright and glowing, When the angels came for thee.
Death had laid aside his terror,
And he found thee calm and mild, Lying in thy robes of whiteness,
Like a pure and stainless child.
Hardly had the mountain violet
Spread its blossoms on the sod, Ere they laid the turf above thee, And thy spirit rose to God.
Early wert thou taken Mary!
O away! my thoughts are earthward!
With the saints and angels now.
Brighter, fairer far than living,
With no trace of woe or pain,
Shall I see thee once again,
By the light that never fadeth,
HUZZA FOR THE RULE OF THE WHIGS!
AIR-" Old Rosin the Beau."
ALL ye who are true to the altar and throne,
And you who don't like it may let it alone,
How quietly now we may sleep in our beds,
Though fears of rebellion hang over our heads,
In the 'nineties we saw (I remember the day)
But the country was saved in a different way,
Our vessel was steer'd by the bravest and best,
But as matters now stand in this ill-fated realm,
The Church-can you doubt what her danger would be
Lord John, or his friends, we should certainly see
W. E. A.