IF IN LOVING, SINGING.
If in loving, singing, night and day
We could trifle merrily life away,
Like atoms dancing in the beam,
Like day-flies skimming o'er the stream,
Or summer blossoms, born to sigh
Their sweetness out, and die—
How brilliant, thoughtless, side by side,
Thou and I could make our minutes glide!
No atoms ever glanced so bright,
No day-flies ever danced so light,
Nor summer blossoms mixt their sigh,
So close, as thou and I!
THOU LOVEST NO MORE.
Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken
Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er;
Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken,
Thou lovest no more—thou lovest no more.
Tho' kindly still those eyes behold me,
The smile is gone, which once they wore;
Tho' fondly still those arms enfold me,
'Tis not the same—thou lovest no more.
Too long my dream of bliss believing,
I've thought thee all thou wert before;
But now—alas! there's no deceiving,
'Tis all too plain, thou lovest no more.
Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken,
As lost affection's life restore,
Give peace to her that is forsaken,
Or bring back him who loves no more.
WHEN ABROAD IN THE WORLD.
When abroad in the world thou appearest.
And the young and the lovely are there,
To my heart while of all thou'rt the dearest.
To my eyes thou'rt of all the most fair.
They pass, one by one,
Like waves of the sea,
That say to the Sun,
"See, how fair we can be."
But where's the light like thine,
In sun or shade to shine?
No—no, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,
Nothing like thee.
Oft, of old, without farewell or warning,
Beauty's self used to steal from the skies;
Fling a mist round her head, some fine morning,
And post down to earth in disguise;
But, no matter what shroud
Around her might be,
Men peeped through the cloud,
And whispered, "'Tis She."
So thou, where thousands are,
Shinest forth the only star,—
Yes, yes, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,
Nothing like thee.