When her little hands shall press thee When her lip to thine is prest, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee~Think of him thy love had bless'd! Should her lineaments resemble Those thou never more may'st see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me. All my faults perchance thou knowest, Every feeling hath been shaken: But 'tis done-all words are idle Fare thee well! thus disunited- A BRIDAL SERENADE. Anonymous. WILT thou not waken, Bride of May, While flowers are fresh, and the sweet bells chime? How all Life's Pilot Boats sail'd one day, A match with Time. Love sat on a lotus' leaf aloft, And saw old Time in his loaded boat; While Love sat clapping his wings, and cried, "Who will pass Time?" Patience came first, but soon was gone Care and Grief could not lend an oar, And Prudence said (while he stay❜d on shore), "I wait for Time!" Hope filled with flowers her cork-tree bark, And lighted its helm with a glow-worm spark; "Hope out-speeds Time!" Wit went nearest Old Time to pass, "O Mirth kills Time!" But Time sent the feathery arrows back,- His gossamer sails he spread with speed, Unpitying Time. Wake and listen then, Bride of May! Gave wings to Time. SONG. Anna Maria Porter. RING on, ring on, ye merry bells, To wake my slumbering heart to madness. Ring on, ring on! for since your chimes Shall never now my wedding hallow, And rouse their joys, like spectres sallow. Ah! ring such pensive peals as when In these tall groves I wandered sighing ; And listened to the best of men, Who now in yonder grave is lying. Ah! ring such peals as may recal Those happy hours, now gone for ever; TO STELLA. O, LADY! what a night was that, That bright, that pure, that holy orb, O, Lady! in that little hour What trains of thought aroseWhat visions rapt absorbed the senseWhat ages rolled away? The swelling heart-the eye suffused The tender blissful tear ; The trembling hand-the throbbing pulse- H. They told-whate'er my future lot Of dark, or sunny hue ; They told me, in an angel's voice, Then, Lady, yield thy trembling hand- O, by that dear, that hallowed night, O, swear beneath that star's chaste beam, O, Lady, yes! in that mild look I read a sweet consent! With angel voice that look proclaims- WOMAN. MUCH hath been written upon lovely woman, Bird. |