PARTING SONG.

We meet with smiles, we part in tears;
  This is our earthly lot,
We cannot find a place on earth,
  Where friends have parted not. 
And oh! it is the saddest thought,
  That we no more may meet,
That we may see their face no more,
  Whose friendship was so sweet.

We meet with smiles, we part in tears,
  But Mem’ry long will bring,
Their image in our waking thoughts,
  A blest and sacred thing: 
And we shall pause amid the crowds,
  Where we are strangers now;
And deeply think of what has been,
  Till grief will shade our brow.

Till grief will shade our aching brow,
  And tears will freely flow,
Till we shall weep, as we have wept,
  O’er friends now sleeping low;
For, who may tell, if e’er again,
  Those friends shall meet our gaze;
Who’ve wander’d forth from all our love,
  Where Death’s dark angel strays?

THE SONG OF MAY.

To mountains hoar and russet plain,
A joyous sprite, I come again;
With many a sweet and joyous strain,
And break grim winter’s icy chain.

From yon blue chambers far above,
On brilliant wings, I lightly move;
I come, and lead the cooing dove,
And all the choir that fill the grove.

To leafy wild, and city’s hum,
The queen of joy, I come, I come;
The little rills no more are dumb;
But hail me, as I come, I come.

With breath that glads both land and main,
I come again, I come again! 
On hillside, bank, and level plain,
The flowers appear, in beauteous train.

To blooming land and azure main,
Each year I duly come again;
A stranger from yon heavenly plain
Of light and bliss; as poets feign.

TO MY LYRE.

O harp, with whom my childhood played,
  Within that verdant dell,
O’erbower’d by boughs of grateful shade,
  I go—­Farewell! farewell!

If I have durst to raise thy tone
  To sing a theme too high,
Thou, thou must bear the sin alone,
  O harp, not I, not I.

For, thou had’st witch’d me with a love
  Where reason had no part;
I felt that thou would’st e’en approve,
  And fondly heard my heart.

The song hath ended.  Silence falls
  Round the enchanted dell;
Awhile I heed no more thy calls,
  Sweet harp! farewell! farewell!

YOU ASK WHY I AM LONELY NOW.

You ask why I am lonely now,
  In all this brilliant scene,
And why I look on beauty’s charms,
  With cold, unalter’d mien.

You say that, many a loving heart,
  Would joy to be my own,
That none of all the human race,
  Should ever live alone.

I’ll tell you why I’m lonely now,
  If grief will let me speak,
And why I glance on woman’s charms
  With cold, unalter’d cheek.