I'VE WATCHED YOU FROM THE SHORE. I'VE watched you from the shore, eye, And a quiver on the lip; And distance hides at last, From where, cold and still, I stand, You've shed the latest tear That my cheek will ever wet, And, in their latest kiss, Our parted lips have met; I shall never hear your voice again, OVER THE SEA. OVER the sea-over the sea O but my heart is over the sea! Over the sea-over the sea, O but her heart is over the sea! Northward the white sails go; northward to me Over the sea! OPE, FOLDED ROSE! OPE, folded rose ! Longs for thy beauty the expectant air; Longs every silken breeze that round thee blows; The watching summer longs to vaunt thee fair; Ope, folded rose ! Ope, folded rose ! The memory of thy glory lit the gloom, Ope, folded rose ! The thrush has still'd the rustling elm with song; WISHES. ON Bramshill's terrace walks Lady Clare; That's petted and smooth'd by her hand so fair! Lady Clare strolls through Bramshill's grounds; O happy falcon! O might I stand, In Bramshill's chamber a cage is hung; To be coax'd by her as I scream'd and swung! O were I the silver cross, so blest! But, ah! that I were the locket of pearl Ride on, O Earl, by her palfrey's side! A SUMMER INVOCATION. To feel that dewy touch of thine, In heat, the landscape quivering lies; Come thou, and brim the meadow streams, MARY! MARY! THE grass is long above thy breast; Yet cannot think thee dead: Thou art for ever fled, Mary! Mary! Thou hear'st my sobs-the groans I utter for thy sake; Alas! I dream a weary dream, uncheck'd, From which I cannot break- Mary! Mary! No more! to hear thy voice no more! In groans I've said it o'er and o'er, Yet cannot think 'twill be. How can I think that thou art gone, For ever gone from me, Mary! Mary! Through life to live without thy love! To live, and live alone! Till now that thou indeed art gone, Why art thou taken from my love! Thou should'st our lives untwine! That thus, so early, ere her time, Thou, Heaven, should'st make her thine? Mary! Mary! My name was ever on thy lips When life was ebbing fast; The thought of me was with thee, love, O tell me, in the dark, cold grave, From thee it hath not pass'd, Mary! Mary! Was it for this I left thee, love, Mary Mary! Hear me, thou hope-thou only joy, Whate'er, where'er thou art, Hear thou the voice of my despair, Not long-not long we part, Mary! Mary! THE FORSAKEN. Ir's there that she loves to sit, By the cool sea-breezes fann'd, With her babe 'neath the bending palms That shadow that island strand. Her dusky brow has a calm Too deep for a face so young; And too wildly, sadly sweet Are the songs to her infant sung. And there, through the weary day, Her watch o'er the distant sea, For a sail that will come no more. THE HOMEWARD WATCH. THE sailor the deck is pacing, And he hums a rough old song, Bearing north from its southern whaling, As the good ship drives along; |