Drooping from a lid of milk
Veined deep with violet;

Find me these, and each one tells
Where the wildering urchin dwells.

Yet still ask you where he's dwelling?
Where a brow is, purer than
The white bosom of the swan,
Rounded with a night more rare
Than was ever hung on high,
Sleeping round in braided hair
Brooding o'er a raven eye,

O'er an eye all eyes excelling;
Find me these, and there he's dwelling.

If one steal upon him there,
Tell me tell me-shall I seize
Love, the troubler of mine ease?
Questioner, nay, I say not so,
And his will I read aright;

There his presence ne'er thou'lt know;
Never there he'll glad thy sight;

For but yesternight he sware,

Only I should find him there.

A WINTER SONG.

CRACKLE and blaze,
Crackle and blaze,

There's snow on the housetops; there's ice on the ways;

But the keener the season
The stronger's the reason

Our ceiling should flicker and glow in thy blaze.

So fire-piled fire,

Leap, fire, and shout;
Be it warmer within

As 'tis colder without,

And as curtains we draw and around the hearth close,

As we glad us with talk of great frosts and deep snows,

18

A SMILE-IT WAS BUT A SMILE.

As redly thy warmth on the shadow'd wall plays,
We'll say Winter's evenings outmatch Summer's days,
And a song, jolly roarer, we'll shout in thy praise;
So crackle and blaze,
Crackle and blaze,

While roaring the chorus goes round in thy praise.

Crackle and blaze,
Crackle and blaze,

There's ice on the ponds; there are leaves on the ways;
But the barer each tree

The more reason have we

To joy in the summer that roars in thy blaze.

So fire, piled fire,

The lustier shout

The louder the winds shriek

And roar by without,

And as, red through the curtains, go out with thy light
Pleasant thoughts of warm firesides across the dark night,
Passers by, hastening on, shall be loud in thy praise;
And while spark with red spark in thy curling smoke plays;
Within, the loud song to thy honour we'll raise.
So crackle and blaze,

Crackle and blaze,

While roaring the chorus goes round in thy praise.

A SMILE-IT WAS BUT A SMILE.

A SMILE-it was but a smile,

Yet it set my stirr'd heart thinking,

And dizzied my dancing brain,
As if with joyous drinking.

A word-it was but a word,

Yet on my heart's hush'd hearing

It fell with a quick glad start,

And shook it with hopes and fearing.

A kiss-a long heart's kiss,

And I-I knew not whether
I breathed earth's air or heaven's,
As our hot lips clung together.

A kiss-a last wild kiss,

A kiss, how wild with sorrow! And does it all end in this,

In a night that knows no morrow!

THE WRECKED HOPE.

THERE'S a low soft song in a chamber,
Where sits, in the darkening room,
A young wife, lulling her babe to rest,
Scarce seen in the deepening gloom;
And her song to her babe is telling
How in hope and in joy she sees
The white sails homeward swelling

To the strain of a favouring breeze,
The good ship bearing its father home
From the far wild southern seas.

There's a dim drear moon careering Through the dark grim clouds on high, And a waste of billows tossing

Beneath the stormy sky,

And a wave-wash'd form upheaving

At times to the moon's wan gleams,

Around which the wild sea rages,

And the grey gull wheels and screams: And the form is his of whose safe return Afar his young wife dreams.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

FRIENDLY HINTS TO TRANSATLANTIC FRIENDS.

BROTHERS, with all you boast of so,
So much in love I am,
At times republican I grow,

Then, "Long live Uncle Sam !”
But when of Uncle Tom I think,
And what slave-auctions mean,
Again to loyalty I shrink;

"Tis then, "God save the Queen!"

Let a Crimean campaign come,
All Yankee straight I am,

I darn our lords and lordlings some,
Then, "Long live Uncle Sam !"
But when I think of Kansas, friends,
And all her judges screen,

Good faith! my Yankee fever ends;
Ah, then, “God save the Queen !”

When I think what Court spangles cost,
And Court tom-fooleries damn,
My rage for thrones is somewhat lost,
Then "Long live Uncle Sam !"
But when I think what Presidents,
And White House contests mean,
My scorn of Courts somewhat relents;
"Tis then, "God save the Queen !"

When, darn them! tax-collectors call,
Straight off in thought I am;
U. S. will free me from them all,
So, "Long live Uncle Sam !"
But when I think of bowie-knives,
And what revolvers mean,

And feel I've not a hundred lives,

Ah, then, "God save the Queen !”

At times, of Marquis, Duke, and Earl,
So sick and tired I am,

Hard words at all the tribe I hurl,
Yes, "Long live Uncle Sam !"
But when I think, by titles bored,
You, too, do somewhat lean

To such things-Sam, you love a lord,
Well, well, "God save the Queen!"

Often, by old-time fooleries fired,
Game-laws and all I damn,

Of church, church-rates, and church-courts tired,
Ah, "Long live Uncle Sam !"
But when I think of Lynch, the judge,

And what his verdicts mean,

Ah, back to loyalty I budge;

Yes, then, "God save the Queen!"

When, startled by the mighty pace
At which you move, I am,
While we seem lagging in the race,
Then, "Long live Uncle Sam !"
But when I think your wondrous growth
More slaves and chains may mean,
To be a Yankee straight I'm loth,
Ah, then, "God save the Queen!"

God bless them! Vanguards of the free,
In wrath at times I am

With both, but proud I guess we be

Of you, O Uncle Sam !

And you, we know your noise and fuss
At us, but love can mean;

I've heard you cry at times with us,
Yes, Sam, "God save the Queen!"

1858.