HAPPY LOVE.
| The Nightingale sings to the midnight air, All darkling and alone: And the Lover's lute, mid the gloom of despair, Gives forth its sweetest tone. But the Lark springs up with the morn's first blush, And mounts the clouds above; As he sings to his mate, in the hawthorn bush, The tale of his happy love. But hark, that note from the clustering shade! It has reached his listening ear; And, with pinions closed, to her leafy bed, He comes, like a falling star. O! happy Love! O happy pair! O for that tuneful art! That I might breathe in my Lucy's ear The voice of a happy heart. |
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
SORROWS OF LOVE.
TO A BEAUTIFUL GIRL ON SEPARATION.
| Oh! weep not tho' we're bid to part, Since time nor distance e'er can sever The links that bind my changeless heart, To thy angelic form forever. As summer clouds that hide the sun, When once removed restore him brighter; This night of woe as soon as done, Will make our love-day morn the lighter. Affliction now our hearts has proved, And shown our passion's depth more clearly; In joy we might have known we loved, But grief has taught us, oh! how dearly. |
The foregoing was written by a gentleman of fine genius, and is published without the author's knowledge.