The brilliant visions floating o'er thy brain, That like spring flowers, once crush'd, can never bloom again? Ah! through life's chequer'd range, but one such hour The bosom's lord pours forth its sweetness to the flame. In after years a thousand passions take Themselves a shrine to rest in ! To the heart Ay, ye may smile, ye stoics! but 'tis true, And not the fiction of a poet's brain: The heart's first bloom of love, like morning dew, THE DIFFIDENCE OF LOVE. Why should I blush to own I love? Why should I seek the thickest shade, Is it a weakness thus to dwell HENRY KIRK White. THE PRIDE OF LOVE. 'Tis strange with how much power and pride The softness is of love allied; How much of power to force the breast To be in outward show at rest. How much of pride that never eye May look upon its agony! Ah! little will the lip reveal Of all the burning heart can feel. Oh! why should woman ever love, Of sunshine, for its doubtful ray! wwwwww LANDON. UNREQUITED LOVE. Sister! since I met thee last, In the softness of thine eyes Deep and still a shadow lies; From thy voice there thrills a tone Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught Tell me not the tale, my flower! Tell me not of kind thoughts wasted; -Weep, sweet sister, on my breast! wwwwww HEMANS. THE TRYSTING HOUR. The night-wind's Eolian breezes, The fleecy clouds wreathing in tresses, The stars hang their lamps in the sky, 'Tis lovely the landscape to view, love, When each bloom has a tear in its eye. So stilly the evening is closing Bright dew-drops are heard as they fall, Eolian whispers reposing, Breathe softly, I hear my love call; Yes the light fairy step of my true love, The night-breeze is wafting to me; Over heath-bell and violet blue, love, Perfuming the shadowy lea. THOMAS LYLE. LOVE'S HERALDS. Love's heralds should be thoughts Which ten times faster glide than the sunbeams Driving back shadows over lowering hills : Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. SHAKSPERE. www. Oh! for some fairy talisman to conjure Up to these longing eyes the form they pine for! And aught in sound most sweet, to sight most fair, LOVE'S WISHES. I wish that I were A voiceless sigh, Floating through air, When thy beauty draws nigh: Unperceived I would steal o'er thy cheek of down, And kiss thy soft lips uncheck'd by a frown. |