And pleasant to the sobered soul
The silence of a wintry scene,
When Nature shrouds her in her trance,
In deep tranquillity.
Not undelightful now to roam
The wild-heath sparkling on the sight;
Not undelightful now to pace
The forest's ample rounds;
And see the spangled branches shine,
And snatch the moss of many a hue
That varies the old tree's brown bark,
Or o'er the grey stone spreads.
The clustered berries claim the eye,
O'er the bright holly's gay green leaves;
The ivy round the leafless oak
Clasps its full foliage close.
ROBERT SOUTHEY.
TO ——.
When the bloom on thy cheek shall have faded away,
When thine eye shall be closed in the grave,
Thou shalt dwell in my heart like the last gleam of day.
That purples with twilight the wave.
And if souls are allowed in a happier sphere
To watch o'er the spirits they love,
Be the guardian—the friend that thou wert to me here,
Be my guide—my protector above.
I know thou must die, and the cold earth will hide
The form I shall ever adore;
But in death, as in life, it will still be my pride
Such virtue as thine to deplore.
And, oh! when I gaze in the stillness of night
On those orbs that bespangle the sky,
I will think there thou dwellest an angel of light,
And hearest thy sorrower's sigh.
It will sooth me to feel, though a wilderness grows,
This lone world all unpeopled for me;
That, though drooping and withering, there still is one rose
In this wilderness blossoms for thee.
Though it will not be thine its last blushes to greet,
To weep o'er its bloom to decay;
If worthy such bliss, in a world we shall meet
Where thou'lt chase every dew-drop away.
The following versification was from the pen of a very young, and interesting woman, in reply to the solicitations of her family not to accompany her unfortunate husband into exile.