The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository / Forming an Interesting Collection of Original and Select Literary Productions in Prose and Verse

by Unknown

Say, nymph, so delightful and gay,

Art thou from the mansions above?’

She smil’d and she answer’d—‘NEW MAY,

AND MINE ARE THE MANSIONS OF LOVE.’

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LOVE.

Cold blows the wind upon the mountain’s brow,

In murmuring cadence wave the silv’ry woods,

The feather’d tribes mope on the leafless bough,

And icy fetters hold the silent floods;