Melts the rude mariner with thoughts of home, Peopling the gloom with all he longs to see. Spirit! I've built a shrine, and thou hast come, And on its altar closed-for ever closed thy plume!
WHEN spring begems the dewy scene,
How sweet to walk the velvet green,
And hear the zephyr's languid sighs,
As o'er the scented mead he flies!
How sweet to mark the pouting vine
Ready to fall in tears of wine;
Where the embo wering branches meet,-
Oh, is not this divinely sweet?
ITH grey head bent upon the ground,
While wandering through a Saxon vale,
A pilgrim first the violet found,
Flinging its fragrance on the gale,
As he towards the holy shrine
Journey'd along with wearied feet-
He smiled, to think the saint divine
Should him with such sweet odours meet.
A Lover on the Indian Sea,
Sighing for her left far behind,
Inhaled the scented jasmine tree,
As it perfumed the evening wind:
Shoreward he steer'd at dawn of day,
And saw the coast all round embower'd,
And brought a starry sprig away,
For her by whose green cot it flowered.
And oft when from that scorching shore
In after days those odours came,
He pictured his green cottage door,
The shady porch, and window-frame,
Far, far away across the foam;
The very jasmine flower that crept Round the thatch'd roof about his home, Where she he loved still safely slept.
With raven ringlets blown apart,
And trembling like a startled dove,
A lovely girl pressed to her heart
A moss-rose, to appease its love.
But all in vain, it still kept beating,
And so she said, ""Tis all in vain!
Oh, this love! 'tis past defeating,—
What can I do but love again?"
JOW delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love's beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing,
For the knot there's no untying.
Yet remember, 'midst your wooing,
Love has bliss, but love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle.
Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries;
Longest stays when sorest chidden,
Laughs and flies, when press'd or bidden.
Bind the sea to slumber stilly,
Bind its odcur to the lily,
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver,
Then bind Love to last for ever!
JOR every leaf the loveliest flower,
Which beauty sighs for from her bower,
For every star a drop of dew,
For every sun a sky of blue,
For every heart a heart as true!
For every tear by pity shed
Upon a fellow sufferer's head,
Oh! be a crown of glory given,
Such crowns as saints to gain have striven,
Such crowns as seraphs wear in heaven.
For all who toil at honest fame,
A proud, a pure, a deathless name—
For all who love, who loving bless,
Be life one long, kind, close caress,
Be life all love, all happiness!
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