Poems, first period | Page 9

Young Nature invades
The whispering shades,
Displaying each ravishing charm;
The soft zephyr blows,
And kisses the rose,
The plain is sweet-scented with balm.
How high from yon city the smoke-clouds ascend!
Their neighing,
and snorting, and bellowing blend
The horses and cattle;
The chariot-wheels rattle,
As down to the valley they take their mad way;
And even the forest where life seems to move,
The eagle, and falcon,
and hawk soar above,
And flutter their pinions, in heaven's bright ray.
In search of repose
From my heart-rending woes,
Oh, where shall my sad spirit flee?
The earth's smiling face,
With its sweet youthful grace,
A tomb must, alas, be for me!
Arise, then, thou sunlight of morning, and fling
O'er plain and o'er
forest thy purple-dyed beams!
Thou twilight of evening, all
noiselessly sing
In melody soft to the world as it dreams!
Ah, sunlight of morning, to me thou but flingest
Thy purple-dyed
beams o'er the grave of the past!
Ah, twilight of evening, thy strains
thou but singest
To one whose deep slumbers forever must last!
TO MINNA.
Do I dream? can I trust to my eye?
My sight sure some vapor must

cover?
Or, there, did my Minna pass by--
My Minna--and knew not
her lover?
On the arm of the coxcomb she crossed,
Well the fan
might its zephyr bestow;
Herself in her vanity lost,
That wanton my
Minna?--Ah, no!
In the gifts of my love she was dressed,
My plumes o'er her summer
hat quiver;
The ribbons that flaunt in her breast
Might bid
her--remember the giver!
And still do they bloom on thy bosom,

The flowerets I gathered for thee!
Still as fresh is the leaf of each
blossom,
'Tis the heart that has faded from me!
Go and take, then, the incense they tender;
Go, the one that adored
thee forget!
Go, thy charms to the feigner surrender,
In my scorn is
my comforter yet!
Go, for thee with what trust and belief
There beat
not ignobly a heart
That has strength yet to strive with the grief
To
have worshipped the trifler thou art!
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed--
Thy beauty--shame, Minna, to
thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade,
And its roses all withered will
be!
The swallows that swarm in the sun
Will fly when the north
winds awaken,
The false ones thine autumn will shun,
For whom
thou the true hast forsaken!
'Mid the wrecks of the charms in December,
I see thee alone in decay,

And each spring shall but bid thee remember
How brief for thyself
was the May!
Then they who so wantonly flock
To the rapture thy
kiss can impart,
Shall scoff at thy winter, and mock
Thy beauty as
wrecked as thy heart!
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed--
Thy beauty--shame, Minna, to
thee
To-morrow its glory will fade--
And its roses all withered will
be!
O, what scorn for thy desolate years

Shall I feel!--God forbid it
in me!
How bitter will then be the tears
Shed, Minna, O Minna, for
thee!

THE FLOWERS.
Ye offspring of the morning sun,
Ye flowers that deck the smiling
plain,
Your lives, in joy and bliss begun,
In Nature's love
unchanged remain.
With hues of bright and godlike splendor
Sweet
Flora graced your forms so tender,
And clothed ye in a garb of light;

Spring's lovely children weep forever,
For living souls she gave ye
never,
And ye must dwell in endless night?
The nightingale and lark still sing
In your tranced ears the bliss of
love;
The toying sylphs, on airy wing,
Around your fragrant
bosoms rove,
Of yore, Dione's daughter [6] twining
In garlands
sweet your cup-so shining,
A pillow formed where love might rest!

Spring's gentle children, mourn forever,
The joys of love she gave ye
never,
Ne'er let ye know that feeling blest!
But when ye're gathered by my hand,
A token of my love to be,

Now that her mother's harsh command
From Nanny's [7] sight has
banished me--
E'en from that passing touch ye borrow
Those
heralds mute of pleasing sorrow,
Life, language, hearts and