KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN.

Kathleen Mavourneen! the gray dawn is breaking,
  The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill;
The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking,—­
  Kathleen Mavourneen! what, slumbering still?

Oh, hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever? 
  Oh! hast thou forgotten this day we must part? 
It may be for years, and it may be forever! 
  Oh, why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart? 
Oh! why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?

Kathleen Mavourneen, awake from thy slumbers! 
  The blue mountains glow in the sun’s golden light;
Ah, where is the spell that once hung on my numbers? 
  Arise in thy beauty, thou star of my night!

Mavourneen, Mavourneen, my sad tears are falling,
  To think that from Erin and thee I must part! 
It may be for years, and it may be forever! 
  Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart? 
Then why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?

JULIA (OR LOUISA MACARTNEY) CRAWFORD.

WE PARTED IN SILENCE.

We parted in silence, we parted by night,
  On the banks of that lonely river;
Where the fragrant limes their boughs unite,
  We met—­and we parted forever! 
The night-bird sung, and the stars above
  Told many a touching story,
Of friends long passed to the kingdom of love,
  Where the soul wears its mantle of glory.

We parted in silence,—­our cheeks were wet
  With the tears that were past controlling;
We vowed we would never, no, never forget,
  And those vows at the time were consoling;
But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine
  Are as cold as that lonely river;
And that eye, that beautiful spirit’s shrine,
  Has shrouded its fires forever.

And now on the midnight sky I look,
  And my heart grows full of weeping;
Each star is to me a sealed book,
  Some tale of that loved one keeping. 
We parted in silence,—­we parted in tears,
  On the banks of that lonely river: 
But the odor and bloom of those bygone years
  Shall hang o’er its waters forever.

JULIA (OR LOUISA MACARTNEY) CRAWFORD.

AUF WIEDERSEHEN.

     SUMMER.

The little gate was reached at last,
  Half hid in lilacs down the lane;
She pushed it wide, and, as she past,
A wistful look she backward cast,
  And said,—­“Auf wiedersehen!”
With hand on latch, a vision white
  Lingered reluctant, and again
Half doubting if she did aright,
Soft as the dews that fell that night,
  She said,—­“Auf wiedersehen!”

The lamp’s clear gleam flits up the stair;
  I linger in delicious pain;
Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air
To breathe in thought I scarcely dare,
  Thinks she,—­“Auf wiedersehen!”