Native Mountains! how my bosom
  Swells with happiness and pride,
When I gaze upon ye soaring
  O’er your vales so green and wide. 
All my wishes, all my pleasures,
  Still are closely, sweetly bound,
To ye, lofty native Mountains,
  With your valleys blooming round.

THE TRAIN IS COMING.

The train is coming, coming,
  It whistles, don’t you hear? 
I saw the smoking engine,
  And soon they will be here. 
The train is coming, coming,
  It is already here,
I think that handsome Willie,
  I’m sure, he’ll soon appear.

I’ve waited long to see him,
  And thought the train was slow;
But now I see it stopping,
  And Willie’s come, I know. 
I got, on Sunday morning,
  The sweetest billet-doux,
It had a white envelope,
  And his initials, too.

I read it, then I started,
  To hear the sermon through,
But I could not hear the sermon,
  For all that I could do. 
For it said that he was coming,
  Without mistake to-day,
That he was growing weary
  Of things and folks away.

But list! the bell is ringing,
  And here is Willie’s card;
I’ll meet him in the parlor,
  For I am quite prepar’d,
To answer any questions
  That Willie now may ask,
And then to serve and love him,
  Will be my daily task.

LINES.

Far hath lovely Fanny flown,
  O’er the mountains, o’er the sea;
All our peace with her hath gone,
  We are wed to misery.

As the rainbow fades away,
  As the short-lived spring departs,
Shone she brightly o’er our way,
  Fled from our repining hearts.

Yet the rainbow will return,
  And the Spring will come once more;
But the fair whose flight we mourn,
  Walks on Death’s Elysian shore.

LOVE SONG.

My heart is newly gushing,
  With love for thee, with love for thee,
With thoughts as wild and wasteful,
  As yonder sea, as yonder sea.

Oh yes! my soul is wretched
  With longing pain, with longing pain,
It gives a ceaseless moaning,
  Like yonder main, like yonder main.

Thy strange and matchless beauty,
  Is like the sea, is like the sea;
Thy face in love or anger,
  Is sweet to me, is sweet to me.

Thy maiden soul is precious
  As yonder deep, as yonder deep,
Within its glassy clearness,
  Bright jewels sleep, bright jewels sleep.

Thy sinless mind resembles
  Yon deep, blue sea, yon deep, blue sea;
The glorious things of heaven
  Are seen in thee, are seen in thee.

Oh main! as some poor sailor
  Is lost in thee, is lost in thee,
My soul is lost in sighing,
  No hope for me, no hope for me.