Yes, thou shalt smile again! - Time always heals
    In youth, the wounds of Sorrow. - O! survey
    Yon now subsided Deep, thro' Night a prey
    To warring Winds, and to their furious peals
Surging tumultuous! - yet, as in dismay,
    The settling Billows tremble. - Morning steals
    Grey on the rocks; - and soon, to pour the day
    From the streak'd east, the radiant Orb unveils
In all his pride of light. - Thus shall the glow
    Of beauty, health, and hope, by soft degrees
    Spread o'er thy breast; disperse these storms of woe;
Wake, with sweet pleasure's sense, the wish to please,
    Till from those eyes the wonted lustres flow,
    Bright as the Sun on calm'd and crystal Seas.

Oh! I will hold fast to Joy!
I will not let him depart -
He shall close his beautiful rainbow wings
And sing his song in my heart.

And I will live with Delight!
I will know what the children know
When they dance along with the April wind
To find where the catkins grow!

I will dream the old, old dreams,
And look for pixie and fay
In shadowy woods - and out on the hills -
As we did but yesterday.

Love I will keep in my soul -
Ay! even by lock and key!
There is nothing to fear in all of the world
If Love will but stay with me.

No, I will not let Faith go!
I will say with my latest breath -
I know there's a new and radiant road
On the other side of Death.

In maudlin spite let Thracians fight
Above their bowls of liquor;
But such as we, when on a spree,
Should never brawl and bicker!

These angry words and clashing swords
Are quite de trop, I'm thinking;
Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise,
And drown your wrath in drinking.

Aha, 't is fine,--this mellow wine
With which our host would dope us!
Now let us hear what pretty dear
Entangles him of Opus.

I see you blush,--nay, comrades, hush!
Come, friend, though they despise you,
Tell me the name of that fair dame,--
Perchance I may advise you.

O wretched youth! and is it truth
You love that fickle lady?
I, doting dunce, courted her once;
Since when, she's reckoned shady!

Farewell has long been said; I have forgone thee;
    I never name thee even.
But how shall I learn virtues and yet shun thee?
    For thou art so near Heaven
That heavenward meditations pause upon thee.

Thou dost beset the path to every shrine;
    My trembling thoughts discern
Thy goodness in the good for which I pine;
    And if I turn from but one sin, I turn
Unto a smile of thine.

How shall I thrust thee apart
    Since all my growth tends to thee night and day--
To thee faith, hope, and art?
    Swift are the currents setting all one way;
They draw my life, my life, out of my heart.

I dare not look at those dear eyes,
The sun was never half so bright,
There surely more of rapture lies
Than ever bless'd a mortal's sight.

In thy sweet face I see impress'd
Ten thousand thousand charms divine,
The sunbeams of thy guileless breast
Like Heaven's eternal mercies shine!

Angel of love! life's endless joy,
Our hope at morn, our evening prayer;
The bliss above would have alloy,
Unless dear--------- thou wert there!

Oh! Woman--what a charm hast thou
Our rebel nature thus to tame:
We ever must adore and bow.
While virtue guards thy holy fane!

Werthing.

I sit by the fire musing,
    With sad and downcast eye,
And my laden breast gives utt'rance
    To many a weary sigh;
Hushed is each worldly feeling,
    Dimmed is each day-dream bright -
O heavy heart, can'st tell me
    Why I'm so sad to-night?

'Tis not that I mourn the freshness
    Of youth fore'er gone by -
Its life with pulse high springing,
    Its cloudless, radiant eye -
Finding bliss in every sunbeam,
    Delight in every part,
Well springs of purest pleasure
    In its high ardent heart.

Nor yet is it for those dear ones
    Who've passed from earth away
That I grieve - in spirit kneeling
    Above their beds of clay;
O, no! while my glance upraising
    To yon calm shining sky,
My pale lips, quivering, mur...

Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams
    In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight
That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,
    And shoot the shadows through and through with light?
    What matters one lost vision of the night?
    Let the dream go!

Let the hope set. Are there not other hopes
    That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky?
Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes
    Before some light is lent it from on high;
    What folly to think happiness gone by!
    Let the hope set!

Let the joy fade. Are there not other joys,
    Like frost-bound bulbs, that yet shall start and bloom?
Severe must be the winter that destroys
    The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb.
    What cares the earth for her brief time of gloo...

Unconscious on thy lap I lay,
A spiritual thing,
Stirless until the yet unlooked-for day
Of human birth
Should call me from thy starry twilight, Earth.
And did thy bosom rock and clear voice sing?
I know not--now no more a spiritual thing.
Nor then thy breathed Adieu
I rightly knew.

--Until those human kind arms caught
And nursed my head
Upon her breast who from the twilight brought
This stranger me.
Mother, it were yet happiness to be
Within your arms; but now that you are dead
Your memory sleeps in mine; so mine is comforted,
Though I breathed dear Adieu
Unheard by you.

And I have gathered to my breast
Wife, mistress, child,
Affections insecure but tenderest
Of all that clutch
Man's heart with their "Too little!" and...

Heavily lay the warm sunlight
Upon the green blades shining bright,
    An outspread grassy sea:
She through the burnished yellow flowers
Went walking in the golden hours
    That slept upon the lea.

The bee went past her with a hum;
The merry gnats did go and come
    In complicated dance;
Like a blue angel, to and fro,
The splendid dragon-fly did go,
    Shot like a seeking glance.

She never followed them, but still
Went forward with a quiet will,
    That got, but did not miss;
With gentle step she passed along,
And once a low, half-murmured song
    Uttered her share of bliss.

It was a little maiden-child;
You see, not frolicsome and wild,
    As such a child should be;
For though she was just nine, no more,
...

To weave a garland for the rose.
    And think thus crown'd 'twould lovelier be,
Were far less vain than to suppose
    That silks and gems add grace to thee.
Where is the pearl whose orient lustre
    Would not, beside thee, look less bright?
What gold could match the glossy cluster
    Of those young ringlets full of light?

Bring from the land, where fresh it gleams,
    The bright blue gem of India's mine,
And see how soon, though bright its beams,
    'Twill pale before one glance of thine:
Those lips, too, when their sounds have blest us
    With some divine, mellifluous air,
Who would not say that Beauty's cestus
    Had let loose all its witcheries there?

Here, to this conquering host of charms
    I now give up my spell-bound heart.

Stiamo, Amor, a veder la gloria nostra.

TO LOVE, ON LAURA WALKING ABROAD.


    Here stand we, Love, our glory to behold--
How, passing Nature, lovely, high, and rare!
Behold! what showers of sweetness falling there!
What floods of light by heaven to earth unroll'd!
How shine her robes, in purple, pearls, and gold,
So richly wrought, with skill beyond compare!
How glance her feet!--her beaming eyes how fair
Through the dark cloister which these hills enfold!
The verdant turf, and flowers of thousand hues
Beneath yon oak's old canopy of state,
Spring round her feet to pay their amorous duty.
The heavens, in joyful reverence, cannot choose
But light up all their fires, to celebrate
Her praise, whose presence charms their awful beauty.

Stay awhile, thou blessed band, be entreated, daughters of heaven!
While the chance-met scholar of Wisdom learneth your sacred names:
He is resting a little from his toil, yet a little on the borders of earth,
And fain would he have you his friends, to bid him glad welcome hereafter.
Who among the glorious art thou, that walkest a Goddess and a Queen,
Thy crown of living stars, and a golden cross thy sceptre?
Who among flowers of loveliness is she, thy seeming herald,
Yet she boasteth not thee nor herself, and her garments are plain in their neatness?
Wherefore is there one among the train, whose eyes are red with weeping.
Yet is her open forehead beaming with the sun of ecstasy?
And who is that blood-stained warrior, with glory sitting on his crest?
And who that solemn sage, calm in ...

Grow to my lip, thou sacred kiss,
On which my soul's beloved swore
That there should come a time of bliss,
When she would mock my hopes no more.
And fancy shall thy glow renew,
In sighs at morn, and dreams at night,
And none shall steal thy holy dew
Till thou'rt absolved by rapture's rite.
Sweet hours that are to make me blest,
Fly, swift as breezes, to the goal,
And let my love, my more than soul,
Come blushing to this ardent breast.
Then, while in every glance I drink
The rich overflowing of her mind,
Oh! let her all enamored sink
In sweet abandonment resigned,
Blushing for all our struggles past,
And murmuring, "I am thine at last!"