VERSES IN AN ALBUM.

Far above the hollow
Tempest, and its moan,
Singeth bright Apollo
In his golden zone,—­
Cloud doth never shade him,
Nor a storm invade him,
On his joyous throne.

So when I behold me
In an orb as bright,
How thy soul doth fold me
In its throne of light! 
Sorrow never paineth,
Nor a care attaineth
To that blessed height.

THE FORSAKEN.

The dead are in their silent graves,
And the dew is cold above,
And the living weep and sigh,
Over dust that once was love.

Once I only wept the dead,
But now the living cause my pain: 
How couldst thou steal me from my tears,
To leave me to my tears again?

My Mother rests beneath the sod,—­
Her rest is calm and very deep: 
I wish’d that she could see our loves,—­
But now I gladden in her sleep.

Last night unbound my raven locks,
The morning saw them turned to gray,
Once they were black and well beloved,
But thou art changed,—­and so are they!

The useless lock I gave thee once,
To gaze upon and think of me,
Was ta’en with smiles,—­but this was torn
In sorrow that I send to thee!

SONG.

The stars are with the voyager
  Wherever he may sail;
The moon is constant to her time;
  The sun will never fail;
But follow, follow round the world,
  The green earth and the sea,
So love is with the lover’s heart,
  Wherever he may be.

Wherever he may be, the stars
  Must daily lose their light;
The moon will veil her in the shade;
  The sun will set at night. 
The sun may set, but constant love
  Will shine when he’s away;
So that dull night is never night,
  And day is brighter day.

SONG.

O Lady, leave thy silken thread
  And flowery tapestrie: 
There’s living roses on the bush,
  And blossoms on the tree;
Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
  Some random bud will meet;
Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find
  The daisy at thy feet.

’Tis like the birthday of the world,
  When earth was born in bloom;
The light is made of many dyes,
  The air is all perfume;
There’s crimson buds, and white and blue—­
  The very rainbow showers
Have turn’d to blossoms where they fell,
  And sown the earth with flowers.

There’s fairy tulips in the east,
  The garden of the sun;
The very streams reflect the hues,
  And blossom as they run: 
While Morn opes like a crimson rose,
  Still wet with pearly showers;
Then, lady, leave the silken thread
  Thou twinest into flowers!

BIRTHDAY VERSES.