Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.

The Young May Moon.

[[522]]

You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Farewell! But whenever you welcome the Hour.

Thus, when the lamp that lighted

The traveller at first goes out,

He feels awhile benighted,

And looks around in fear and doubt.