She walks in beauty, like the night
Or cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes,
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
Hoe pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent-
A mind of peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.





When We Two Parted...

When we two parted,
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss ;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this !

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow ;
It felt like the warning
Of what I fel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame :
I hear thy name spoken
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to my ear ;
A shudder comes o'er me -
Why wert thou so dear ?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well :
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met :
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee ?-
With silence and tears.





Youth and Age

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes a way
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay;
'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast,
But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.

Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness
Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess:
The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain
The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never stretch again.

Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down;
It cannot feel for other's woes, it dare not dream its own;
That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears,
And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.

Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,
Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest;
'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath,
All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath.

O could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been,
Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a vanish'd scene-
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,
So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me!





Love

Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alla given,
To lift from earth our low desire.
Devotion wafts the mind above,
But heavens itself descends in love;
A feeling from the Godhead caught,
To wean from self each sordid thought;
A ray of Him who formed the whole;
A glory circling round the soul!





On Parting

The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left
Shall never part from mine,
Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.

The parting glance, which fondly beams,
An equal love ,may see;
That tear that from thine eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.

I ask no pledge to make me blest
I gazing when alone;
Nor one memorial for a breast,
Whose thoughts are all thine own.

Nor need I write - to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak:
Oh! What can idle words avail,
Unless the heart could speak?