4

THE CAVALIER'S WHISPER.

"Tis sorrow's presence gives
The proof that love is nigh;
Ask you on what he lives?

A kiss-a smile

-a sigh.

THE CAVALIER'S WHISPER.

'Tis a cloudless noon of sultry June,

And pleasant it is to win

The cool thick shade by the chestnut made,

In front of the wayside inn;

And a pleasant sight, with his feather of white,
Is the mounted Cavalier,

Who stoops for the cup that the maid gives up,
With a word none else can hear.

A moment more

from that shady door

That horseman rides away;

And little, I guess, he thinks-and less

Of the word he bent to say;

But many a noon of many a June

Must pass, with many a year,

Ere the maiden who heard that whisper'd word,
Forgets that Cavalier.

O MIGHT I BE THE HAPPY GLOVE!

O MIGHT I be the happy glove,

The happy glove that clasps her hand!

O MIGHT I BE THE HAPPY GLOVE.

But, O more blest, how would I love

To be her robe's glad girdling band,
For ever press'd, in clasp how warm!

What mighty raptures there to taste!
O Eros! round her slender waist;
O boy-god! round her living form;
Ah! then what fevering hours were mine
Of burning dreams and bliss divine!

And, O were I the sparkling ring,
Around her rosy finger worn!
How to that finger would I cling,

And there all kingly jewels scorn!
O more, that I that neck might touch!
That I might one dear instant rest,
A nestling jewel, on her breast!
Ah, sweet desire, for hope too much!
Yet what would I not, girl, resign,
To make such mighty gladness mine!

Yet were this more than, love, to me
The niggard hand of joy could spare,

O might I for one evening be

A flower amid your raven hair!
Even though it were a dying flower,
That breathed its gentle life away;
A sweet white withering jasmine spray,
But pluck'd to please you one bright hour;
Even then in death what dreams were mine
Of burning love and bliss divine!

5

O BUT TO SEE HER FACE AGAIN!

O but to see her face again!

O but to hear her speak!
To feel her braided, raven hair
Again against my cheek!

Cold is the wintry sky without,
Cold-cold, the white snows fall;
But O, my wintry heart within

Is colder far than all !

golden

Ah! many a night, in frost and sleet,
I've waited for her long,

And felt but summer in the drift,
Heard in the blast but song.

Keen drives the wintry gust without,
Cold, cold the white snows fall;
But O, my wintry heart within
Is colder far than all.

A KISS FOR YOUR THOUGHT.

A KISS for your thought—a kiss

As sweet as this;

And should it in truth, love, be

Of me, me, but me,

As, love, indeed, it ought,

I'll not deny you three.

A kiss- a kiss for your thought.

I KNOW that time will streak with gray
That raven hair in years;

I know those eyes, at last, will dim
With age as well as tears;

Year after year, I know, some charm
Will from that form depart,

But well I know, the thought of me,

Will never leave your heart.

Through years, and cares, and every change
That time and grief can bring;

Through life and death, still will your heart
To that but closer cling.

I know, that all things else held dear,
With years less dear will be;

But I know unchanged, love, to the last

Will live your love for me.

ELLEN, YOU'RE MY ROSE.

ELLEN, you're my rose,

Not the Summer's queen,

She her beauty shows

But when elms are green.

Her no more I see;

White fall Winter's snows,

Yet in your cheek she blooms for me;
Ellen, you're my rose.

Spring hung o'er her birth;
Autumn heap'd her grave;

O'er her odorous earth

Now the wild winds rave.

Summer's darling, she

Fled before the snows,

Yet in your cheek she blooms for me;

THIS heart, once a bee, may have been, love, a rover,
From bloom to gay bloom sadly given to roam;
But now its old season of wandering is over,
Your sweetness will keep it for ever at home.