Sailing over the waters, Watching the far blue land, I dropped my golden heart, dear, It lies in the cold, blue waters, Gazing at life's bright visions, I might seek that heart for ever, Adelaide Anne Procter. Thy vows are all broken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, In secret we met : In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet tliee?— With silence and tears. George, Lord Byron. CCLXXI. LOVE'S AFTER-YEARS. THE OLD LOVE. LOVE-TIME and flower-time for this year are dead- But thou art bleaker than sharp winds that shed Then maddened with insatiable desire Flash out among the rocks in foam like fire-But when we hear the unfed wind complain In barren hollows where are no more flowers, Each will remember that old love of ours, Grown with the dead leaves a departed pain. James Rhoades. CCLXXII. LOVE'S AFTER-YEARS. A GAME AT CHESS. My little love, do you remember, Hovering warm o'er Queen and Knight. And falter; falls your golden hair And checks me unaware. Ah me! the little battle's done ; Disperst is all its chivalry; Full many a move, since then, have we 'Mid life's perplexing chequers made, What is it we have won? This, this at least-if this alone ;- Shut out the world, and wintry weather, CCLXXIII. LOVE'S AFTER-YEARS. TOO LATE. EACH on his own strict line we move, So far apart their lives are thrown From the twin soul that halves their own. And sometimes, by still harder fate, The lovers meet, but meet too late. -Thy heart is mine !-True, true! Ah true! -Then, love, thy hand !-Ah no! Adieu ! Matthew Arnold. CCLXXIV. LOVE'S AFTER-YEARS. TWO SUNDERED HEARTS. THEY seemed, to those who saw them meet, Her smile was undisturbed and sweet, But yet, if one the other's name In some unguarded moment heard, And letters of mere formal phrase But had gone on for years and years! Alas! that love was not too strong The goal of mutual bliss beside! Yet what no chance could then reveal, Let fate and courage now conceal, When truth could bring remorse alone. Richard, Lord Houghton. CCLXXV. LOVE'S AFTER-YEARS. MARGARET. Ay, I saw her, we have met Married eyes, how sweet they be Are you happier, Margaret, Than you might have been with me? Silence make no more ado ! Did she think I should forget? Matters nothing, though I knew, Margaret, Margaret ! Once those eyes, full sweet, full shy, What they told me I put by, And I did not want it then; Fool! I wish my heart would break, |