A balm that baffles every woe, While hearts that beat and eyes that glow What are all the joys of earth? To hearts that ever knew love. On the path of true love? Should joy our days and years illume, Then, while I live, then till I die, Oh! be thou only smiling by, And, while I breathe, I'll fondly try With all my heart to bless thee ! DELTA. When the heart is full, the overflow Of bliss, by being shared, is sweeter still. Bloom out together; and the blessed stars Of night, walk not the pathless heavens alone, R. MONTGOMERY. A silver lute, a minstrel hand, The melody of song? H. B. MEET ME AT SUNSET. Meet me at sunset, the hour we love best, Ere day's last crimson blushes have died in the west, Meet me at sunset oh! meet me once more, 'Neath the wide-spreading thorn where you met me of yore, When our hearts were as calm as the broad summer sea That lay gleaming before us, bright, boundless, and free; And with hand clasp'd in hand, we sat trance-bound, and deem'd That life would be ever the thing it then seem'd. The tree we then planted, green record! lives on, But the hopes that grew with it are faded and gone. Meet me at sunset, beloved! as of old,— When the boughs of the chestnut are waving in gold; When the pure starry clematis bends with its bloom, And the jasmine exhales a more witching perfume. That sweet hour shall atone for the anguish of years, And though fortune still frown, bid us smile through our tears; Through the storms of the future shall soothe and sustain ; Then meet me at sunset- oh meet me again! A. A. WATTS. LOVE'S MINSTREL LUTE. Love's minstrel lute was once so dear To every youthful breast, Each maiden throng'd its notes to hear, Each swain its spells confess'd! Love rambled oft in hours of joy, Love's minstrel lute has lost its tune, And passion's fervid breath hath flown, For Reason came amid the throng His icy fingers round the boy Threw Wealth's enslaving chain, And Love's soft lute, that soul of joy, Ne'er sang of bliss again! MRS. C. B. WILSON. What spirit e'er so gentle shall be found, So softly rear'd in humble privacy; What form so fragile on wide earth's vast bound, Shrinking from every blast beneath the sky, That will not brave severest destiny, Bear, uncomplaining, want and cruel wrong, And look on danger with unblenching eye, If Love hath made that gentle spirit strong? Love, pure, approved by Heaven, leads that frail form along! LADY DACRe. LOVE. Love in the soul, not bold and confident, And with faint flickering, and uncertain beams, And rapturous sorrow. Then the world is nothing; Ambition, riches, praise, power, all are nothing; Then, oh! the shape of magic loveliness |