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 Book ,3)3^ H^ 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES PRINGLE ADCOCK 
 
 If Adcock knew that aught included here 
 
 From Beauty's eye would start the guilty tear, 
 
 Or lead gay Youth, on some unguarded day. 
 From honor, truth and' virtue's golden way, 
 
 These early lays, thougli sacred to his breast, 
 In cold Oblivion's lap should sink to rest. 
 
 MARION. KY. 
 
 PRESS OF THE CRITTENDEN RECORD 
 
 1905 
 
jl.tBRARYot WNGRESS 
 two Copies rtecaveu 
 
 AUG 2i i9U5 
 
 OOPV 8. 
 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Since rhyme becomes the sport of idle men, 
 
 AH have a right to wield the poet's pen. 
 
 The peasant wakes and sings in hope of fame, 
 
 While ev'ry coquette writes to sign her name; 
 
 The plow-boy, rude and ever reckoned dull. 
 
 In verse decants the contents of his skull; 
 
 The cobbler, fond of plaudits loud and long, 
 
 In folly's ear pours out his venal song; 
 
 Earls, barons, lords and peers grow fond of praise. 
 
 And scrawl in rhyme the remnant of their days, 
 
 "VVliile the pert urchin, scarce foregone his nurse, 
 
 Ransacks his fancy for immortal verse. 
 
 Now, since such idlers might in safety sing, 
 
 I tried and found my muse could flap her wing. 
 
 Then was my fruitless task of verse begun. 
 
 And he who reads may see what I have done. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 .Stanzas — On revisiting tlie Play-gToiuul of Early Youth 5 
 
 In Years Gone By 8 
 
 Stanzas On Spring 8 
 
 Lines to Brj'ant's Poem 8 
 
 My Boyhood Boys 10 
 
 Farewell, Farewell 10 
 
 Those Eyes of Blue , 11 
 
 Thoughts — Suggested on Viewing the Grave of a Comrade 11 
 
 They Are Gone 14 
 
 Goodbye 15 
 
 Why In Dreams 16 
 
 She Loved; She Mused 17 
 
 Midnight ,. 18 
 
 We Fools Of Verse 19 
 
 Away, Away 19 
 
 A Farewell to Beauty's Bower 20 
 
 1 Dreamt Of Thee 22 
 
 Lines To 23 
 
 Well I Have Lived 26 
 
 A Farewell To My Pen 27 
 
 Lines On Resuming the Same 27 
 
 I'm Not Dismaj^ed 28 
 
 Verses To Thomas Moore's Poems 28 
 
 EXTEMPORANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh, Scorn Him Not 31 
 
 Reply to A Lady 31 
 
 To One 32 
 
 Lines On "Pleasures of Hope" 32 
 
 To 33 
 
 V 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 An Hour With Thee 33 
 
 To A Lady 34 
 
 My Home 34 
 
 On Parting With Miss 35 
 
 I Ask No Pompons Pile 35 
 
 Affection's No'blest Part 35 
 
 Reply To A Beautiful Cousin 30 
 
 To A Young Lady 37 
 
 Take Back T'lie Flowers 37 
 
 O Had I Known 38 
 
 Lovely Girl 38 
 
 EULOGISTIC POEMS. 
 
 To Woman 40 
 
 Robert Burns 40 
 
 To the Cricket 41 
 
 Lines to John W. Adcock 42 
 
 To the Same 43 
 
 To A Dead Eagle 45 
 
 Lines to Byron's Poem 46 
 
 Verses On William Cullen Bryant 48 
 
 ELEGIAC POEMS. 
 
 An Autumn Night 49 
 
 Farewell Sweet Stream 49 
 
 To A Worm 50 
 
 When This Frail Form 50 
 
 To Time 51 
 
 Through Life's Short Scene 51 
 
 Lines at A Playmate's Grave 52 
 
 Pale Scynthia 52 
 
 Lines On Theodore Gaylord RadclifTe 53 
 
 'Twas Sad To Yield Her Up 53 
 
 Jocund Youth 54 
 
 It Will Be Sweet 55 
 
 Richard H. Dana 55 
 
 And Tliey Are Gone 55 
 
 I'm Twenty Seven 56 
 
 VI 
 
- CONTENTS 
 
 She Sleeps 57 
 
 Her Stilly Tomb 57 
 
 Wlien I'm No More 58 
 
 I Soon Shall Sleep 59 
 
 I Viewed The Spot 59 
 
 Lines By My Mother's Grave 60 
 
 Stanzas — To A Daisy 60 
 
 ]Jnes On the Death of Chas. Francis Hewlett 61 
 
 Lines By the Grave of Hewlett 62 
 
 Lines On the Death of Whittier 63 
 
 Lines On the Death of Tennyson 65 
 
 ODES. 
 
 To Night 67 
 
 To Peace 67 
 
 To Virtue 68 
 
 To The Evening Star 68 
 
 To Sleep 69 
 
 To A Butterfly 69 
 
 To Health 70 
 
 To Darkness 70 
 
 To Prudence 71 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 On Misa 72 
 
 On A Soldier 72 
 
 On Miss M 72 
 
 On 72 
 
 On A Teacher 73 
 
 On A Wanderer 73 
 
 On A Friend 73 
 
 On Mr. A. Davis 74 
 
 On A Comrade 74 
 
 On A Pretty Cousin 74 
 
 On A Playmate 74 
 
 On Ruby Wayland 75 
 
 On Dr. W. N. Tolley 75 
 
 On A Cliild 75 
 
 VII 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 On the Lovely ]\Iiss 75 
 
 On A Beautiful Girl 7(5 
 
 On A Friend's Sister 76 
 
 On My Ck)usin 76 
 
 On A Lady 76 
 
 On Mrs. Maggie Worten 77 
 
 On A Lovely Woman 77 
 
 On Dr. James F. Clemens 77 
 
 On My Mother 78 
 
 On My Father 78 
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 On An Epigram 79 
 
 On the Muse 79 
 
 On The Poet's Fame > 79 
 
 On Woman's Friendship 80 
 
 On Meekness 80 
 
 On Man And The Bee 80 
 
 On The Poet's Mind 81 
 
 On The Obviousness of Female Timidity 81 
 
 On Happiness 82 
 
 On Fair Woman 82 
 
 On Harsh Words 83 
 
 On The Dangerous Book 8:} 
 
 On Genius In Rusticity 83 
 
 On Thought 84 
 
 On Forbidden Trees M 
 
 On Man 81 
 
 On Friendship 85 
 
 On The Poet's Idol 85 
 
 On Genius' Flight From Obscurity 85 
 
 On Two Beggars 8(; 
 
 On Nature's Peculiarities 86 
 
 On Youthful Delusions 86 
 
 On False Esteem 86 
 
 On Love Bought Love 87 
 
 On Timely Warnings 87 
 
 On Truth's Perpetuity 8T 
 
 Vdl 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 On Expensive Friendships 88 
 
 On The Rustic's Mourner 88 
 
 On False Views of Happiness 88 
 
 On Vain Allurements 88 
 
 On The Tardiness of Favorites 89 
 
 On Frequent Occurrences 89 
 
 On Logical Hints 89 
 
 On Unexpected Hap2>enings 89 
 
 On Love 90 
 
 AMOROUS MELODIES. 
 
 Heave One Sweet Sigh For Me 91 
 
 Where Some Fond Heart Reposes 92 
 
 I Think of Thee 92 
 
 We Met 93 
 
 Come, Let Me Gaze 93 
 
 The Kiss 94 
 
 Sleep On 94 
 
 When Last We Met 95 
 
 She Wept 9(5 
 
 She Said She Knew of One 9G 
 
 I Love Thee Yet 97 
 
 It May Be 97 
 
 Fare Thee Well 98 
 
 Go Kiss The Smile 98 
 
 Think of Me 99 
 
 Come, Tell Me 99 
 
 'Tis All In Vain 100 
 
 Well, Thou Art Changed 101 
 
 I'm All Alone 102 
 
 We Met to Part 103 
 
 If Tliou Wert Mine 104 
 
 1 Saw Thy Face 104 
 
 I Love Thee Still 105 
 
 Since Then 10(5 
 
 A Few More Years 106 
 
 It Seems An Age 107 
 
 Sweet Girl 107 
 
 IX 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Sunday Evening 108 
 
 At Parting She Gave It 108 
 
 When Tliis Sad Heart 109 
 
 I Love Thee 109 
 
 Young Affection 110 
 
 Svi^eet Lips Ill 
 
 Fair Woman 112 
 
 I See Thee Yet ' 113 
 
 The Smile 114 
 
 Can'st Thou Not Gaze 114 
 
 Come Thou With Eyes 115 
 
 My Sway Is O'er 115 
 
 O Smile Not So Sweetly IIG 
 
 Fare Thee Well 117 
 
 1 Bade Farewell 117 
 
 O Since You Have Met Me 118 
 
 The Vine Trellised Gate 119 
 
 If I Were Young 120 
 
 Go Wreathe Thy Soft Forcliead 121 
 
 Weep Not, Sweet Girl 122 
 
 Lady, Sweet Lady 122 
 
 1 Stood On The Hillside 122 
 
 Sweet Mary 123 
 
 Say That You Love Me 125 
 
 1 Know That You Love Me 126 
 
 Send Me Back My Heart 127 
 
 Say Not That I Have Loved in Vain 127 
 
 You Know That I Love You 128 
 
 When I'm No More 129 
 
 1 Went To Bring My Heart Back 130 
 
 Thou Lov'st Me Not 131 
 
 She Loves Me Not 132 
 
 Stanzas To 133 
 
 Woman 134 
 
 It Pains My Breast 134 
 
 O Say Not 136 
 
 Sweet Lady, Goodby 136 
 
 Not Yet 137 
 
 X 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Farewell 137 
 
 O Woman 139 
 
 PATRIOTIC LAYS. 
 
 America 140 
 
 The War of Independenoe 141 
 
 Valley Forge 142 
 
 Jackson's Address 143 
 
 On The Eve of Our War With Spain 144 
 
 After The War 144 
 
 Don't Send Him Here 145 
 
 Notes 147 
 
 Xi 
 
PREFACE 
 
 When I pause to consider the many disadvantages under which 
 I labored in the composition of these poems, regardless of the en- 
 treaties of my friends, I feel a serious inclination to consign them 
 to the flames, but I have at last secured tlie consent of my mind 
 to suffer their publication, and if my most generous reader should 
 meet with but one beautiful line in this brief volume he may truly 
 ascribe its origin to genius and not learning, for I trust no one 
 will ever attempt the acquisition of poetic renown with less than 
 I have shared of the latter. 
 
 I have not calculated to excite the admiration of the literary 
 world by the publication of these, my early effusions, but if I shall 
 be fortunate enough to furnish my friends with a few hours pleasant 
 reading my need is accomplished. 
 
 I began this unprofitable trade of rhyme in early life and had 
 I exercised my better judgment by keeping my compositions from 
 the press I might thereby have conferred a great favor on the read- 
 ing public, for I am conscious of my error in presenting these mis- 
 erable fragments of poetic composition to the public gaze and can 
 expect onlj to merit criticism on my noblest endeavors. 
 
 I have sought to treat no subject of vast importance in this 
 volume and have not deemed it prudent to prolong any of my com- 
 positions to extraordinary length. "VViiile a few poets laave been 
 really too brief, it is to be feared tliat a great number have wasted 
 much of their time and wearied the reader with repetitions. 
 
 I have sought to imitate no one nor have I been sanguine 
 enough to labor in hope of discovering some rare and fertile island 
 in the much-traversed ocean of poetic literature for many have 
 ventured on that dangerous sea and toiled under the impression 
 that they were erecting the foundation for some great nation of 
 thought, when they were only making preparation for shipwreck 
 on their homeward voyage. 
 
 In conclusion, if the public, after a thorough perusal of these 
 short and imperfect poems, fails to discover one spark of real 
 poetic genius, it will do their author no injustice to throw them 
 aside with contempt and he, in future years, will string his harp 
 to nobler numbers or rest his pen in the lap of Oblivion. 
 
 Sylvan Croft, May 5, 190.5. —A. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 STANZAS ON REVISITING THE PLAY GROUND OF EARLY 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 A few days since I viewed the scene 
 
 To Cliildhood's heart so dear, 
 And Fancy leaped the gulf between 
 
 That happy morn and here. 
 One moment thro' my careless heart 
 
 The gleams of pleasure stole; 
 I watched the clouds of Time depart, 
 
 Felt sunshine in my soul. 
 Childhood's bright morn came rushing back 
 
 ■Wlith all its happy hours; 
 Once more beside Life's future track 
 
 Lay Fancy's fragrant flow'rs. 
 
 Again youth's lithsome heart was mine, 
 
 And ev'ry Avish the same; 
 I knelt at Love's proiiitious shrine 
 
 And wooed eternal fame. 
 All that of joy I ever knew — 
 
 All that I e'er possessed — 
 In one brief moment bounded thro' 
 
 My wildly throbbing breast. 
 ^^'^llen Fancy's tints grew dim and pale, 
 
 And Reason's sway began, 
 I found, lone, wand'ring in the vale, 
 
 A sober, bearded man. 
 
 I went to see the stream again 
 
 That came from 'neath the hill; 
 It seemed no older now than then. 
 
 And wandered onward still. 
 5 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Tliere in its bed, half hid in sand, 
 
 The same round pebbles lay. 
 I placed them there with glowing hand 
 
 In childhood's hap])y day. 
 I stood to watch the wavelets leap 
 
 And fret and foam along. 
 And heard, far off in woodland's deep, 
 
 The same old blackbird's song. 
 
 Near by, beneath the gi'ape vine bower, 
 
 I found the ground bird's nest 
 ^^'^lere I had played for many an hour 
 
 With gladness in my breast. 
 High in the vines the mock-bird wrought 
 
 Nor woke one soothing tone; 
 The hazle-bush, the blue jay thought 
 
 Reserved for her alone. 
 The wary crow cawed in the glen, 
 
 Her shaggy nest was there, 
 And in the rocks the brown-backed wren 
 
 Had heaped up wool and hair. 
 
 Those spreading trees and their deep shade 
 
 Awoke affection's fire. 
 For there my first attempt was made 
 
 To tune the poet's lyre. 
 That morn was bright, the soft winds blew. 
 
 The woodland, earth and sky 
 Appeared in robes of matchless hue 
 
 To my enraptured eye. 
 There, all alone w'ith solitude. 
 
 In boyhood^'s cloudless day, 
 On half-strung harp in numbers rude, 
 
 I woke my early lay. 
 
 The woodland choir in those bright hours 
 
 Poured music from the trees, 
 "Wliile far away sweet scented flowers 
 
 Shed fragrance on the breeze. 
 
 6 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 1 pauseil to read each deathless name 
 
 On Time's unwinding scroll, 
 And felt the ceaseless love of fame 
 
 Fast kindling in my soul. 
 But I iovgSt, my simple theme 
 
 Is loit'ring far behind, 
 And I've again let Fancy'vS gleam 
 
 Allure away my mind. 
 
 I turned to view the mossy mound. 
 
 O'er which affection grieves; 
 My castle stones lay scattered round 
 
 Among the withered leaves. 
 I found my seat — ^a thing one needs 
 
 In Life's exciting race — 
 'Twas so o'er grown with ugly weeds 
 
 I scarcely knew the place. 
 In years gone by I used to plan 
 
 And rear my castles there, 
 And I'm, though I've become a man, 
 
 Still building in the air. 
 
 There lay the oak, w^liose mighty form 
 
 I thought long years ago, 
 Would well defy the passing storm 
 
 iW'Then I shall slumber low. 
 I thought it would be sweet to rest 
 
 Within its ample shade 
 When death had stilled my heaving breast, 
 
 And Time was duly paid. 
 Yes, in its shade I'd thougiht to find 
 
 A cold couch for my clay. 
 And let the herd of humankind 
 
 Go bustling on its way. 
 
HEART WHI,SPEB,S 
 
 IN YEARS GONE BY. 
 
 Far back in happy years gone by, 
 
 When pleasure, life and love wei-e new, 
 
 I gazed into thy soft blue eye. 
 
 And smiled to think its glances true. 
 
 Thy love, thy earnest love, for me 
 A sunbeam o'er my jyathway slied. 
 
 Our souls were haj^py then, and we 
 Dreamt not of thorns concealed a^head. 
 
 STANZAS ON SPRING. 
 
 The distant sun smiles o'er the earth, 
 ^\^lere late grim Winter trod. 
 
 The lark ascends in heartfelt mirth, 
 To praise creation's God. 
 
 The cawing crow deserts the glen 
 To search the meadow's breast. 
 
 She finds her straw, then seeks again 
 Her new, unfinished nest. 
 
 The blue-jay builds among the trees 
 
 Near by my cottage door. 
 The sparrow, still moi"e hard to please, 
 
 Survej's the rose-bush o'er. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Written in reply to a beautiful poem by William Cullen Bryant, 
 entitled "The Murdered Traveler." 
 
 Yes, many are the trav'ler's bones 
 
 That whiten in the sun, 
 In woodlands deep, by mossy stones, 
 
 Wliere robb'ry's work was done. 
 8 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 On hills and wastes and by the brooks, 
 Which o'er their pebbles play'd, 
 
 Has murder deep in secret nooks 
 His bleeding victims laid. 
 
 The vulture by stern famine prest, 
 Closed his broad pinions near, 
 
 And feasted on the lifeless breast 
 A mother held so dear. 
 
 The iuingry wolf has dared to sneak 
 
 From out his lair of rest. 
 And tear away the silent cheek, 
 
 A fond maid's lip had prest. 
 
 The bhiejay's song beside the brook. 
 The sad dove's solemn moan, 
 
 Have echoed o'er the drearj^ nook 
 Where their cold limbs were thrown. 
 
 To woodland's wild to rear her nest 
 
 Tihe crow was wont to flee. 
 Not knowing that a trev'ler's breast 
 
 Lay mould'ring 'neath her tree. 
 
 The sad, sad owl, when Darkness spread 
 
 Her mantle o'er the vale. 
 Perched on the rocks above the dead, 
 
 To pour her nightly wail. 
 
 At closing day by many a hearth 
 
 Is seen the vacant chair; 
 And silence reigns, tho' joy and mirth 
 
 Once held dominion there. 
 
 O'er many a young wife's ruddy cheek 
 
 The burning tears have run, 
 And many a mother, wan and weak. 
 
 Wept o'er her absent son. 
 
 9 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 The fond young maid, for years unblest, 
 
 H«r ceaseless vigil kept 
 Unconscious that her lover's breast 
 
 In some lone thicket slept. 
 
 MY BOYHOOD BOYS. 
 
 Oh where are they my boyhood knew, 
 With bosoms ever warm and true. 
 
 Yes, those gay ones with whom I played 
 So oft beneath the woodland's shade. 
 
 On many a bright and joyous day 
 When I was young, when I was gay. 
 
 Of youth's gay group a faithful few 
 Still, still remain to greet my view. 
 
 And may these loved of years gone by 
 Be left to please mine anxious eye 
 
 Till death shall seize my childish heart 
 And bid its last wild throb depart. 
 
 FAREWELL, FAREWELL. 
 
 F.arewell, farowell, the briny tear 
 
 Starts down my cheek, but we must part. 
 Thy melting voice ne'er more to hear 
 
 Unless re-echoed in my heart. 
 I've naught to say; I've said too much 
 
 Of woman's beauty, woman's grace. 
 I'm snared by ev'ry tender touch. 
 
 Enslaved by ev'ry smiling face. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, if future years 
 Shall e'er present one thought of me. 
 
 Let not that thought call forth thy tears, 
 For I shall often think of thee. 
 10 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Yes, think of thee, whene'er I meet 
 With soft brown eyes and ringlets brown, 
 
 Tho' Fate demands thy quick retreat 
 Back, back into the smoky town. 
 
 THOSE EYES OF BLUE. 
 
 O where are those soft eyes of blue. 
 Those ringlets of the raven's hue; 
 Those smiles as sweet as ever shone; 
 Those pensive tears all, all my own; 
 Those cheeks in beauty's wildest glow; 
 Those lips I prest long, long ago. 
 
 I'd traverse ocean's rudest isle, 
 
 Oould I but catch that loving smile; 
 
 Could I but see those locks of jet, 
 
 Those lips with boytiood's kisses wet. 
 
 Behold that eye's soft lustre shine, 
 
 Or press that heart which once was mine. 
 
 THOUGHTS 
 
 Suggested on viewing the grave of a comrade. 
 
 The round, red sun had bent him low, 
 
 To sip the western wave — 
 And to the hills a deeper glow 
 
 He ne'er at parting gave. 
 The breeze that shook the closing flower 
 
 Was soft as lover's sigh. 
 The woodland lawn and scented bower 
 
 Had filled the dullest eye. 
 11 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 The nightfowl steered her speedy flight, 
 
 Thro' ev'ning's skies of blue, 
 The mockbird from the woodland's height, 
 
 Had sung her last adieu. 
 
 Awhile in Ocean's cold embrace 
 
 To rest his aged frame, 
 Day's matchless monarch hid his face 
 
 And left the hills aflame. 
 At that soft hour I paused awhile, 
 
 Wliere in his bed of clay 
 Beneath a low and humble pile 
 
 An early comrade lay. 
 Wliile gazing on the simple stone, 
 
 'Neath which his dust reclined, 
 These solemn thoughts like spectres lone 
 
 Stalked slowly o'er my mind. 
 
 Poor, puny man, vain, boasting form. 
 
 One short and fltful day 
 Inhales the breeze, sinks in the storm, 
 
 And here his limbs decay. 
 Here ends his proudest race and here's 
 
 The remnant of his frame. 
 Who bathed the world in blood and tears. 
 
 To leave himself a name. 
 Pale Mis'ry's child with aching head. 
 
 Here sinks in hope of rest. 
 And Earth's proud sons for ages tread 
 
 Across his lifeless breast. 
 
 The miser here despite his gold, 
 
 Despite his hoarded heaps, 
 Lies down in death and there behold 
 
 His mould'ring bosom sleeps. 
 Bright Beauty robed in silk and lace 
 
 Is missed in pleasure's hall. 
 Pale grows her cheek and o'er her face 
 
 Consumption's shadows fall. 
 
 12 
 
HEART WHIHPER8 
 
 The Monstei' grim with silent tread 
 
 Steals on his gentle prey, 
 But hush ! yon mossy slab is spread, 
 
 Above her lifeless clay. 
 
 The child of song whose sun went down, 
 
 In Glory's hemisphere, 
 Regardless of his vast renown 
 
 Rests his eold bosom here. 
 And tho' the world, with streaming eyes, 
 
 Should bend above his frame. 
 Unmindful of her tears or sighs. 
 
 His heart would sleep the same. 
 The aimless tramp, from hunger free, 
 
 Here with the king is laid, 
 And doubtless is as blest as he 
 
 ■Wliose wish one world obeyed. 
 
 The sluggard lost his fear of toil 
 
 And here began his sleep. 
 Here sank into his native soil 
 
 Like bubbles in the deep; 
 And lie who shook the sword awhile 
 
 O'er half a world subdued. 
 Was lain on stem Helena's isle 
 
 In peace and quietude. 
 O'er him, but few have wasted tears. 
 
 Nor was his rest more sweet 
 Than his, the friend of early years. 
 
 Now slumb'ring at my feet. 
 
 'Neath where those drooping willows wave. 
 
 Red War's pale victims rest, 
 And at their feet the village knave 
 
 Laid dbwri his hated breast. 
 A few steps back, without a stone. 
 
 His weedy mound appears. 
 Who laughs to scorn a widow's moan. 
 
 And scoffed her orphan's tears. 
 
 13 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Poor, puny man — vain, boasting thing- 
 Here ends his brief career, 
 
 And he who thus essays to sing, 
 Ere long shall slumber here. 
 
 THEY ARE GONE. 
 
 O they are gone! that joyous throng, 
 
 With hearts to friendship's cause so true; 
 
 But few are left to share my song, 
 But few to catch my last adieu. 
 
 On distant shores in foreign climes, 
 With hearts and feelings grown so sear. 
 
 They ne'er recall the happy times 
 That we in boyhood sported 'here. 
 
 ^\^lere once I sat I take my seat. 
 One moment more to feel the same; 
 
 childhood's many sports were sweet! 
 But manhood is a toilsome game. 
 
 With eyes half shut I linger long, 
 My former feelings lialf lenewed; 
 
 The mockbird thix>' her same sweet song 
 Gives all her heart to solitude. 
 
 The haste and toil of manhood's reign 
 Now lose their pressure on my mind, 
 
 Wliile happy visions throng my brain 
 Of all that boyhood left behind. 
 
 1 seem to hear their trampling feet 
 As they renew some former game. 
 
 O childhood, childhood, bright and sweet! 
 But, hush, some comrade calls my name. 
 
 14 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 An eager thought steals o'er my brain, 
 A by-gone wish their sports to share, 
 
 I raise my head, 'tis all in vain. 
 Not one of that gay gix)iip is ihere. 
 
 And cheated thus, away I bound. 
 Half thinking yet to find them here. 
 
 But ling'ring by the play-house mound, 
 let me leave one parting tear! 
 
 GOODBYE. 
 
 This sad, sad word has oft been bruught 
 
 On lips in Child- like play, 
 By firmest friends who little thought 
 
 They spoke goodby for aye. 
 Yea, it has come from rosy lips, 
 
 Wlien fiery Sol had set, 
 That ere he rose felt death's eclipse, 
 
 And sleep in silence yet. 
 
 It has been breathed by loving maid 
 
 In Beauty's tyrsting bower, 
 To gladsome Youth who had delayed 
 
 Too long the parting hour. 
 Yes, breathed \vQien he had turned to go, 
 
 And little thinking then 
 That death would strike the fatal blow 
 
 Ere they should meet again. 
 
 It has been said when all the while 
 
 We watched the canvas swell, 
 To waft to earth's remotest isle 
 
 Some heart we loved so well. 
 It has been whispered at the door 
 
 By many a tender bride, 
 To him whose footsteps came no more 
 
 Unto his broad hearthside. 
 15 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 It lias been said when Freedom's shriek 
 
 Resounded through the air, 
 And hot tears came on Valor's cheek 
 
 To leave impressions there. 
 Aye, said by her when bosoms met, 
 
 That they had met their last, 
 Till his had faced the bayonet 
 
 In Combat's deadly blast. 
 
 WHY IN DREAMS. 
 
 why in dreams dost thou appear 
 With form and features still the same! 
 
 Dost thou still hold my being dear, 
 And brood in fondness o'er my name? 
 
 1 know not years have past away 
 Since last I wooed thee in thy bower. 
 
 My mem'ry hails that brilliant day 
 And whispers of that parting hour. 
 
 Hast thou in slumber's soft embrace, 
 At midnight hour e'er dreamt of me? 
 
 Yes, doubtless seen my boyish face 
 In all its smiles restored to thee. 
 
 If passion sleeps to wake no more. 
 And hope's an exile from thy breast, 
 
 Wliy brood's my mind in slumbers o'er. 
 What once my idle heart possessed? 
 
 What fills thine eye with wonted fire, 
 Wliat brings thy cheek its former hue. 
 
 What bids thy gloomy thoughts retire, 
 And thrills thy gentle heart anew? 
 
 O 'tis affection's melting flame! 
 Nor need the truth to be denied. 
 16 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 In othei' years its presence came 
 A sunbeam o'er Life's swelling tide. 
 
 Then take my heart and g..„- me thine, 
 Though far from thee my path may go. 
 
 Life seems a waste without a shrine, 
 Or one fond heart to share my woe. 
 
 I offer thee what once was mine, 
 It sighs for tliee, it bleeds for thee, 
 
 Oh, take that heart and give me thine! 
 For thou art all in all to me. 
 
 SHE LOVED; SHE MUSED. 
 
 She loved; she mused; she wai'bled here, 
 
 Whe^n life's full tide was swelling. 
 And as they were these walls appear, 
 
 Ere they became her dwelling. 
 Now Echo wakes the sweet refrain 
 
 Her ear had heard so often. 
 And not in vain she breathes the strain, 
 
 My heart begins to soften. 
 
 To this same spot the zephyrs stray'd. 
 
 To bear their odors to her. 
 While in the shade our blushing maid 
 
 Sat smiling with her wooer. 
 And 'neath these trees by this low shed 
 
 They parted on the morrow. 
 Now he is dead and she has wed. 
 
 They tell me, to her sorrow. 
 
 I pause to muse, beneath her trees — 
 The scene my heart impresses. 
 
 This roguish breeze I deem the breeze 
 That wantoned with her tresses. 
 17 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 My fancy sees tliis threshold near, 
 That figure fair and slender, 
 
 While in mine ear I seem to hear 
 Her whispers sweet and tender. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 'Twas Phoebe's noon, when all alone, 
 Across the lawn I strolled. 
 
 The dew drops on the her^bage shone 
 Like gems of purest gold. 
 
 The lucid lamps tliroughout the sky 
 Smiled o'er a world at rest, 
 
 And no wild zephyr wandered by 
 To ruffle Nature's breast. 
 
 No cloud was seen, and in the rill 
 Pale Phoebe's features gleamed, 
 
 Wliile far around the winding hill 
 The moping owlet screamed. 
 
 The gabbling geese no longer kept 
 Up their discoixlant brawl. 
 
 The watchdog in his kennel slept 
 Beside the cottage wall. 
 
 The bat his plumeless pinions plied 
 Beneath pale Midnig'ht's shroud. 
 
 While in the grass near by my side, 
 The cricket chii-ped aloud. 
 
 No bleatings from the hillside crept, 
 Where snow-Avhite lambkins lay. 
 
 And chanticleer in silence slept 
 That midnight hour away. 
 
 18 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 WE FOOLS OF VERSE. 
 
 We fools of verse are prone to bring 
 
 Shame and disgrace upon us, 
 For more than lialf the songs we sing 
 
 Are dead ere grass grows on us. 
 We waste our lives, we sweat and toil, 
 
 A nation's praise to merit; 
 Then by some futile numbers spoil 
 
 Wliat little we inherit. 
 
 He who would conquer for renown 
 
 Puts life to vilest uses. 
 And he who rhymes to please the town, 
 
 Gets much of its aibuses. 
 E'en they from whom we hoped for praise, 
 
 Have quite another notion. 
 And strive to yield our feeble lays 
 
 Their doom in Lethe's ocean. 
 
 AWAY, AWAY. 
 
 Away, away, ye hopes of fame, 
 Ye midnight visions of renown. 
 
 Obscurity s<hall nurse my name. 
 And Silence wear my starless crown. 
 
 In by-gone years I longed to hear 
 My deeds on Fame's loud trumpet blown. 
 
 But now my hopes have grown so sear 
 That I'm content to live unknown. 
 
 What happiness, what peace of mind, 
 Is left for him who wins renown 
 
 By trampling down liis fellow kind, 
 When he to his cold grave comes down? 
 
 19 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Wliat joy is kept in store lor him 
 
 ■\\niose life-long task was gath'ring gold, 
 
 Wlien Being's lamp grows faint and dim, 
 And Niglit's deep shadows are unrolled? 
 
 ^Vhat heartfelt joy or bliss remains 
 For him, the dfeathless child of song. 
 
 When life's warm current quits his veins. 
 And Death, pale spectre, stalks along? 
 
 I would not do the world a wrong 
 For Bonapai-te's ill-won renown. 
 
 Or leave her one immoral song 
 For royal Shakespeare's shining crown. 
 
 Away, away, ye hopes of fame, 
 Ye childhood visions of renown, 
 
 If this be all that ye can claim. 
 
 If thus your brightest stars go down. 
 
 A FAREWELL TO BEAUTY'S BOWER. 
 
 I've played my day in Beauty's bower, 
 
 Far in the golden west. 
 The sun that charmed my morning hour 
 
 Now ihies him down to rest. 
 
 That morn was bright, and bright the eve. 
 
 That day came forth to Shine, 
 And few who seek Love's bower leave 
 
 With lighter heart than mine. 
 
 The playful breeze that swept the lawn 
 
 Brought odors rich and rare, 
 From waj'side gems wihose founts were drawn 
 
 To make my comforts there. 
 
 Farewell, ye maidens young and gay, 
 Ye charming creatures all; 
 20 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Your loving words my uiem'ry may 
 In future years recall. 
 
 Yovir smiles may rise in mem'ry's eye 
 
 On many a future day, 
 When bosoms that once beat so^hig'h 
 
 Are TOingled with tlie clay. 
 
 Farewell to thee, thou fragrant bower, 
 
 Wliere little Mary's smile 
 Made beautiful life's morning hour, 
 
 And cheered my heart the while. 
 
 Her rosy cheeks and laughing eyes 
 
 A hemiit might admire. 
 I met them and to my surprise 
 
 I found my heart on fire. 
 
 Farewell, ye bowers where Hettie played 
 
 A tireless conqueror's part. 
 And by no undue fondness made 
 
 A captive of my lieart. 
 
 In manhood's early morn she seemed 
 
 The load- star of my way, 
 With eyes half closed my fancy dreamed 
 
 That such would last for aye. 
 
 Farewell, ye bowers, where other eyes 
 
 As tender and as sweet. 
 Spoke much of love's mysterious ties, 
 
 In language not unmeet. 
 
 Farewell, ye bowers, where Cora sang 
 My heart's warm raptures up. 
 
 For while her matchless music rang, 
 I drank from Pleasure's cup. 
 
 But now she sleeps; those songs are o'er, 
 
 In pleasure's jocund ring 
 Such voice I trust to liear no more. 
 
 Unless when angels sing, 
 
 21 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Farewell, ye bowers where Hattie lieard 
 
 My most pathetic vow, 
 And whispered many a tender word 
 
 That I remember now. 
 
 She might have been the poet's bride — 
 
 A secret thought to tell— 
 Had Fate not made the gulf too wide. 
 
 Farewell, a long farewell. 
 
 Farewell, ye bowers so brilliant, where 
 
 My pretty cousin strayed, 
 And with dark eyes, and darker hair, 
 
 Unequaled conquests made. 
 
 A fairer form is seldom seen. 
 
 Or smoother features met; 
 Her nature mild, her air serene — 
 
 WTiat if I love her yet? 
 
 Search not my page that name to find, 
 
 'Tis absent everywhere, 
 For 'tis within my heart enshrined, 
 
 And I shall leave it there. 
 
 I've had my day, I leave the shades 
 
 With no reluctant tread, 
 ^V^lere Beauty yet the chaplet braids 
 
 For her fond lover's head. 
 
 Now others play the part I play'd, 
 
 With happiness in view, 
 But let them play, I won my maid. 
 
 And I am happy too. 
 
 I DREAMT OF THEE. 
 
 Last night, in slumbers soft and deep, 
 At midnight hour I dreamt of thee. 
 
 I thought thy heart had dared to keep, 
 Thro' all its cares, one thought for me. 
 22 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Away, away, my happy heart 
 
 Then knew no bound'ry to its bliss. 
 
 Our eyes performed their am'rous part, 
 Our lips fulfilled love's ardent kiss. 
 
 I thought tihat thou and I weie young. 
 Again enjoyed those vanished hours, 
 
 ^^^lile o'er our heads the wild birds sung, 
 And all our pathway smil'd with flow'rs. 
 
 You seemed as in the years gone by, 
 AVhen thou my youthful fancy stole, 
 
 That same bright gleam was in thine eye 
 Which seemed so like affection's soul. 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 If I could steal my lieart from thee 
 
 And east away thy spell. 
 Thy slave I would no longer be. 
 
 But thou art loved too well. 
 
 Thy face is pictured on my heart. 
 And e'en thy name is tlieie, 
 
 The dearest thing of earth thou art — 
 Most charming and most fair. 
 
 My life would' be all dark and drear 
 
 If it were not for thee. 
 Thy charms have power my soul to cheer 
 
 And bid my sadness flee. 
 
 Thy handsome face and melting voice 
 Make earth a Heav'n to me. 
 
 Thy smile bids my sad heart rejoice. 
 For I'm a slave to thee. 
 
 With thee I'd track the ocean's foam 
 Along its wildest shore; 
 23 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Eartli's saddest hut would seeiu like home, 
 If thou wert by its door. 
 
 Long years ago I strove to tear 
 
 My truant heart from thee, 
 E'en tried to place that heart elsewhere. 
 
 But still thou'rt dear to me. 
 
 'Twas all in vain, yes, all in vain. 
 
 I had not strength to quell 
 The fondness of my heart and brain, 
 
 For thou wert loved too well. 
 
 \\liere may I roam, where may I go, 
 
 And cease to think of thee? 
 say if all this world below 
 
 No Lethe has for me! 
 
 tell me of some desert place, 
 
 Or ocean- favored isle, 
 Where I may once forget thy face 
 
 If but a little while! 
 
 Wliere may I go to break the spell 
 Tliat binds my heart to thine? 
 
 'Wlhere may I go and bid farewell 
 To all this love of mine? 
 
 \\^iere may I find some cave, unknown 
 
 To all the human i-ace? — 
 But there I could not be alone, 
 
 For there would be thj' face. 
 
 Yes, thy sweet face would haunt me there. 
 
 In ev'i'y midnight dream. 
 And I would see thy raven hair. 
 
 E'en see thy blue eyes gleam. 
 
 Could'st thou have loved in years gone 1)y, 
 
 And pledged thy heart to me. 
 You might have had no cause to sigh. 
 
 Or aught to trouble thee. 
 24 
 
HEART WHI.SPERS 
 
 But mine was not the lace that made 
 
 Thy tender heart o'erilow; 
 My voice was not the voice that sway'd 
 
 Thy feelings long ago. 
 
 I liad no charms thy soul to bless, 
 
 Nor one fond feeling wal^e, 
 But I must learn to love thee less. 
 
 Or my poor heart will break. 
 
 Go seek the crowd to play your part, 
 Where mirth and music meet; 
 
 Nor pause to think that Adeock's heart 
 Lies bleeding at your feet. 
 
 There may be many who admire 
 And think your beauties o'er, 
 
 But ne'er was Love's celestial fire 
 Bestowed on you before. 
 
 No other heart lias ever knelt 
 
 So humbly at yoiu- feet, 
 And no one else has ever felt 
 
 Your thralldom so complete. 
 
 I claim of thee on Friendship's part 
 
 All that she ever gave; 
 But ne'er expect to share tliy lieart 
 
 This side the gaping grave. 
 
 Nor even there, for tliere, alone, 
 
 Is love, true love, forgot. 
 Death sits supreme on his cold throne. 
 
 And love's regarded not. 
 
 Smile on, nor think how desolate, 
 
 And how forloin is he 
 Whose poor heart wrestles witli its fate, 
 
 And still laments for tlieo. 
 
 25 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 WELL, I HAVE LIVED. 
 
 Well, I have lived and toiled for naught. 
 
 All, all these weary years, 
 And like a dream or midnight thought 
 
 The mighty past appears. 
 
 My boyhood schemes are baffled now, 
 
 And time still hastens by; 
 Manhood's stern look bedecks my bvow, 
 
 And care sits in my eye. 
 
 I labored hard 'mid joys and woes, 
 
 Through all the cruel past, 
 And might toil on till life shall close. 
 
 Then sleep unknown at last. 
 
 Ere o'er my head ten j'ears had flown 
 
 I grew in love with fame. 
 And when I had to manhood grown 
 
 My feelings were the same. 
 
 I fed' my mind on rustic lore, 
 Then poured my boyisih song. 
 
 And dreamt to live, when I'm no more 
 Amid the busy throng. 
 
 But now those golden dreams are flown, 
 
 Tlieir destined race is run, 
 And on and on, thro' crowds alone. 
 
 Fate drives her hapless son. 
 
 Tlien, farewell Fame, farewell Renown, 
 
 I cast your spells away. 
 O let me to my grave go down, 
 
 To mix with kindred clay! 
 
 Unknown throughout all future time, 
 
 There, there, .shall I repose; 
 Unsung by friend in verse sublime; 
 
 Unmourned in lifeless prose. 
 26 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 A FAREWELL TO MY PEN. 
 
 And thou must sleep, so fare thee well, 
 
 Although thy task is iiiooniplete. 
 Methinks I hear thy parting knell, 
 
 While Folly mocks thy brightest sheet. 
 Oh! had 1 known in l)oyhood's morn 
 
 That thy rude course had ended here, 
 I had not looked on him with scorn 
 
 Who strove to check tihy wild career. 
 
 But thou must sleep, then, fare thee well, 
 
 Go thou to Silence's peaceful breast. 
 'Twill cause my own sad heart to swell; 
 
 'Twill cost a tear, but thou shalt rest. 
 No more, perchance, while life shall last. 
 
 May I attend the Muse's call. 
 Then go and let Oblivion cast 
 
 Her midnight shadows for thy pall. 
 
 LINES 
 
 On i-esuming the same. 
 
 O worthless thing! I'd thought to let thee sleep 
 
 Throughout the lest of Life's unhappy hours, 
 Nor stir thee from thy slumber soft and deep, 
 
 Altho' my pathway led thro' smiling bow'rs 
 Where songsters sing and crystal streamlets leap, 
 
 Close by full many a bed of fragrant flow'rs. 
 But I have torn thee from that couch of thine. 
 
 To lay thee down no more while life is mine. 
 
 Ha! feeble thing, how sweetly hast thou slept 
 
 Since long ago I laid thee down to rest; 
 Since then o'er what fair fields has Fancy swept — 
 
 What visions ris'n within my burning brea^st. 
 By this thou mightst o'er many a line have crept, 
 
 Aye, many a page, had I not been distress'd. 
 But naught in future years shall bid us part. 
 
 Till silence wraps this wild untutored heart. 
 27 
 
HEART WHIMPERS 
 
 I'M NOT DISMAYED. 
 
 Since youth, with all its joj^s has lied, 
 And I'm no more that playful child, 
 
 My lieart has changed, my hopes are dead, 
 My soul is sad, my thoughts are wild. 
 
 I tune my lyre through future years 
 To sing in notes more grave than these. 
 
 I little care wlio laughs or sneers, 
 And care still less who they may please. 
 
 Had I again my race to run, 
 
 I ne'er would choose tiliis idle trade; 
 
 But since the task is thus begun. 
 Sing on, my Muse, I'm not dismay'd. 
 
 VERSES. 
 
 In answer to a poem by Thomas Moore to Lord Viscount Forbes, 
 
 and another to Thomas Hume, Esq., M. D., written 
 
 from Washington City, U. S. A. 
 
 No traveling fool need now have fears to pass. 
 Proud cities smile wliere spread the dark morass. 
 If foreign fools there once mistook their way. 
 The future may not fare so ill as tJiey. 
 Our obelisks have grown till now they stand 
 The grandest piles e'er reared by human hand; 
 We have our shrines, we have our heroes now. 
 And to no crown are we compelled to bow. 
 Twice have our ensigns rode the passing breeze, 
 And drove John Bull back on his native seas. 
 On all our shores has English blood been spilt, 
 But yet we ask no fame on others' guilt. 
 
 28 
 
HEART WHISPERt^ 
 
 Oh! if we then possessed no stately dome, 
 Stain not ovir fame if you left none at home. 
 If vice and fraud were mixed to form a curse, 
 Wert thou not fondled in the lap of worse? 
 If slay'r};- reigned with all its blots and stains, 
 Oh! say, had'st thou not felt its galling chains? 
 Had'st thou not sighed o'er thy ill-fated brave, 
 And shed thy secret tears by Freedom's grave? 
 Had'st thou not used thy wit to save thy neck, 
 When Treason's ill-planned project came to wreck' 
 \Vihy take from tiie same hand a worthless bone 
 That forced out Irish Freedom's dying groan? 
 
 Erin, thou, the mob's own native home! 
 W3iy start thy Merry Andrews forth to roam? 
 Why send them here since we to vice are prone ? 
 We build our cells for rascals of our own. 
 Why send them here to rage and roar about? 
 They fill our jails and drink distilleries out. 
 For, if a nation's pride e'er vexed us sore, 
 'Twas he who came from Erin's boasted sliore. 
 yes, 'twas he! that blockhead grave and pert, 
 That rough, rude, mingled mass of gold and dirt, 
 That pack-horse, with his same old striped sack. 
 And half a clothing house upon his back. 
 
 We have our Clay to match your deathless Pitt, 
 And Webster, quite o'er full of Grecian wit. 
 To cope with Curran's eloquence of yore 
 We give Vorhees, the Wabash sycamore. 
 If still witli some a vulgar doubt may lurk, 
 We claim our Breokenridge a match for Burke. 
 Oalihoun, unawed by Fox, may take his seat. 
 And sage Carlyle prove Gladstone's peer complete. 
 Andl if, in warlike deeds you claim the palm, 
 sir! our Jackson met your Packenham, 
 Our Chief once entertained the English horde. 
 And by his kindness won Cornwallis' sword. 
 
 29 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 O'er these rude lines my blood lias boiled too long, 
 
 While Justice asks, "Shall none dare right the wrong?" 
 
 O'er these my youthful heart in secret wept, 
 
 And since that hour its stern resentment kept, 
 
 O'er these, Affection sheds her latest tear. 
 
 And Sympathy laments to find them here. 
 
 These caused my rhymes, and if they win not fame, 
 
 They glow with truth, that sure defense from shame, 
 
 O'er these — but wiiy thy erring verse confound, 
 
 For fav'rites give at times a cureless wound. 
 
 As much as I admire some lays of thine, 
 
 At times thy insolence bids me repine. 
 
 I'd rather sleep forgotten in my grave, 
 
 And let the maize above my embers wave. 
 
 Yes, sleep entombed in dirty Goose Creek's bed. 
 
 With ev'ry Paddy's curse upon my head. 
 
 Than share the praise a nation might bestow 
 
 And let thy Billingsgate uncensured go. 
 
 Oh! if amid the long years yet to cgme, 
 
 When he who writes shall moulder cold and dumb. 
 
 Should Erin's bards but read to hate my strain, 
 
 Though I as dust ten centuries have lain, 
 
 They need not hold their rage for honor's sake — 
 
 I grant them here the privilege I take. 
 
 30 
 
EXTEMPORANEOUS POEMS 
 
 OH! SCORN HIM NOT. 
 
 Oh! scorn him not, tho' thou can'st find 
 No comfort in his sweetest strain. 
 
 It may be that thy gentle mind 
 In Pleasure's lap hast ever lain. 
 
 It may be tliat tliy soul has ne'er 
 By cruel Fate been made to smart. 
 
 It may be that no rival e'er 
 Obtained the idol of thy heart. 
 
 If tears ne'er filled thy brilliant eyes; 
 
 If sighs ne'er wrung thy heart, my dear, 
 I know thou can'st not sympathize 
 
 With him wiho poured his feelings here. 
 
 REPLY TO A LADY. 
 
 You asked me why, of recent years, 
 
 So grave and sad I seem. 
 I scarcely know, but life appears 
 
 A dark, unpleasant dream. 
 
 I feel that all my bliss is o'er. 
 In Beauty's crowded bower. 
 
 And if I e'er may avoo her more 
 Give me a quiet hour. 
 
 When left within some deep'ning shade. 
 Where soft winged zephyr blows, 
 31 
 
HEART WEliSPER^ 
 
 Beside some sweet and gentle maid. 
 My cup of bliss o'erflows. 
 
 \^^lile thus emidoyed, my darkened mind 
 
 Plaj^s truant with its care, 
 And thou alone, of all thy kind. 
 
 Could best detain me there. 
 
 TO ONE 
 
 Who asked me wliy I had written some sad verses. 
 
 My soul is sad, and I rehearse 
 
 ^Vhate'er I chance to feel. 
 Then ask me not why in my verse 
 
 The notes of sadness steal. 
 
 I struggled long, but all in vain, 
 
 To bid dull care dej^art ; 
 But sadness now prevades my strain, 
 
 And rankles at my heart. 
 
 There was a time — but let me not 
 
 Rehearse the past to thee. 
 shall not childhood be forgot! 
 
 W%ere now can Lethe be? 
 
 LINES 
 
 On reading Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope." 
 
 Sweet Hope, 'tis thou that calms the troubled soul 
 AMien dire Misfortune's boist'rous surges roll. 
 And soothes the dying wanderer's weary breast . . 
 Wliile yet grim Death delays to grant it rest. 
 How glows his cheek, what visions soothe his brain. 
 In whose fond bosom thou hast sought to reign. 
 32 
 
HEART WHIMPERS 
 
 The soul's dark clouds, like mists, are swept away, 
 "V^Tiere thy bright sun impels one cheering ray. 
 The wave-toss€'d tar, Avhen many a lonely mile 
 From his lone cot and own dlear native isle. 
 One moment turns aside to dream with thee, 
 Tlio' howling tempests sweep the darken'd sea. 
 But let me cease and strike the harp no more, 
 For mighty hands swept all its strings of yore. 
 
 TO 
 
 If t'hou, to shun Oblivion's blight. 
 
 Hast sought to link thy name with mine, 
 
 Fond fool, the fiends of endless night, 
 Would mock thee for thy bold design. 
 
 If thou would'st live when Silence wraps 
 Tliy mould'ring form in her embrace. 
 
 Cling not to him whose name, perhaps. 
 Shall last no longer than his face. 
 
 AN HOUR WITH THEE. 
 
 An hour with thee, how could I ask 
 
 Aught more of happiness? 
 I would life knew no sadder task, 
 
 Naught more of loneliness. 
 For I have felt, long felt, inclined 
 
 To woo that heart of thine. 
 And I could leave my cares behind 
 
 To make its blessings mine. 
 
 33 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 TO A LADY 
 
 ^\^lo asked me my reason for not attending an evening party. 
 
 Sweet lady, I've no doubt that one 
 In that gay circle thought of me. 
 
 Then why should I appear where none 
 Might wish to have me be. 
 
 Sweet lady, I have no warm heart, 
 On earth, perchance, no brilliant eye 
 
 To weep or sigh, should I depart 
 Ere ev'ning burns the sky. 
 
 Sweet lady, now my soul is sad, 
 
 I've none to share my weal or woe. 
 
 The light, warm heart that once I had 
 Is now no longer so. 
 
 MY HOME. 
 
 My home is now my home no more, 
 
 I feel myself an exile there, 
 I stand outside the bolted door, 
 
 No dwelling there; no home elsewhere. 
 My home — I sigh to think I've not 
 
 On all this earth that sacred spot; 
 No mansion neat, no fertile fields. 
 
 No glowing hearth its comfort yields. 
 But nowhere on the earth or sea, 
 
 Would I be homeless if with thee. 
 
 My home is now my home no more, 
 Not mine since it may not be thine. 
 
 The thresihold where I played of yore, 
 Ne'er more may greet these feet of mine. 
 
 I've nothing here save in thy heart, 
 34 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 And fain would hold that sacred part. 
 'Tis worth Golconda's richest gem; 
 
 'Tis worth a monarch's diadem. 
 Aye, worth — relieved of all its cares — 
 
 The crown that good Victoria wears. 
 
 ON PARTING WITH MISS 
 
 Farewell, farewell, and if we meet 
 
 On this wide earth no more, 
 In thunder tones let me repeat: 
 
 "We shall when life is o'er." 
 My future path is bright and clear. 
 
 I 'half forget my care, 
 For Fancy whispers in my ear: 
 
 "You'll know each other there." 
 
 I ASK NO POMPOUS PILE. 
 
 O sir! I ask no pompous pile 
 
 To mark the spot whei-e I am laid. 
 
 Let Friendship's hand a little while 
 Strew blossoms there in ev'ning's shade. 
 
 Why rear on high the stately heap, 
 AVTiere only sleeps my worthless clay? 
 
 \A%en all that ye need wish to keep 
 Shall then on wings have swept away. 
 
 AFFECTION'S NOBLEST PART. 
 
 You claim Affection's noblest part, 
 And I would fain bestow it. 
 
 But should I let you in my lieai"t. 
 All, all the world would know it. 
 35 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 And I'd be loalli to leave you there, 
 
 Unguarded, unattended, 
 For fear I lost some jewel rare, 
 
 Wlien thy brief stay had ended. 
 
 You claim Affection's noblest part — 
 
 'Tis something that I dteal in. 
 You ask admittance in my heart, 
 
 ■V\%ile otliers seek to steal in. 
 O well! come in, but, by the way, 
 
 Some lovely ones have been there. 
 Alas! for in my absence they 
 
 Played dreadful havoc in there. 
 
 REPLY TO A BEAUTIFUL COUSIN 
 
 Who requested me to send her copies of some of my saddest poems. 
 
 Why ask me now for lonely lays. 
 
 Or numbers sad and slow, 
 When I have sung them all my days. 
 
 And still at times they flow? 
 Oh! never weep when thou can'st smile, 
 
 Or mourn a bubble lost. 
 H* who deceived thy heart awhile. 
 
 Shall yet be tempest tossed. 
 
 Though he was false and broke his vow, 
 
 Whose smile gave such deliglit, 
 Go soothe thy heart, go smooth thy brow. 
 
 Thy day may yet be bright. 
 Who knows, sweet girl, but what thou hast 
 
 Now had thy day of gloom; 
 Then yield the past unto the past. 
 
 And pluck the present's bloom. 
 
 36 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Thy years are few and tliovi art fair, 
 
 Go bid thy cares depart, 
 For who can tell who waits to share 
 
 The goodness of thy heart. 
 Sweet girl, perhaps thy flatterer scorns 
 
 Thine earnest glance to meet. 
 But, Oh! few flowers and many thorns 
 
 Await his heedless feet. 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY 
 
 On giving lier my picture. 
 
 Take this and when you wish to view 
 
 A Beauty's ardent lover. 
 Turn back the leaf of scarlet hue 
 
 And his pale face discover. 
 
 Take this and ask me not his name, 
 For I would blusih to tell thee. 
 
 He loves thee, but 'tis qirite a shame. 
 That such sad fate befell thee. 
 
 TAKE BACK THE FLOWERS. 
 
 Take back the flowers! take back the flowers! 
 
 Thy gift has been too long delayed. 
 If we had met in earlier hours 
 
 My heart had then thy wish obeyed. 
 
 Take back the flowers! nor hope to share, 
 Wliat now I may not give to thee, 
 
 'Tis true thy face and form are fair. 
 But other eyes keep watch for me. 
 
 37 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 HAD I KNOWN. 
 
 O had' I known what now I know, 
 
 Ere I began to rhyme, 
 My pen had slept in silence low 
 
 Throughout all future time! 
 
 'Tis true, the rhymer cheats the grave 
 With what the world calls fam«, 
 
 But better sleep 'neath Lethe's wave 
 Than leave so vile a name. 
 
 LOVELY GIRL. 
 
 lovely girl! how canst thou think 
 My 'heart to thin>? is not sincere, 
 
 The Grecian's cup I'd rather drink 
 
 Than cause thee shed one timid tear. 
 
 I'd ratlier seek some distant shore 
 And lay my aching (head to rest, 
 
 Than drive one pang of sadness o'er 
 Thy gen'rous mind, thy heaving breast. 
 
 1 would not cloud thy bonny bix>w, 
 Nor drive away one smile of glee. 
 
 For to my soul more dear art thou 
 Than I may e'er make known to thee. 
 
 Sweet lady, then mistake no more, 
 I would not leave thy heart undtone, 
 
 I've played my day on Folly's shore, 
 My reckless race of youth is run. 
 
 I gave my heart beside the track 
 
 To Manhood's bright and shining bower. 
 
 And ne'er for once have wished it back. 
 Since that calm day, that happy hour. 
 38 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I've met thee since in many a dream, 
 When midnight's silent hour stole on, 
 
 I've seen thine eye's deep lustre gleam, 
 And ringlets wave thy brow upon. 
 
 I've seen thee smile with face so fair, 
 While my fond heart was truly blest; 
 
 I've sported with thy waving hair 
 
 And elasjied thee to my heaving breast. 
 
 39 
 
EULOGISTIC POEMS 
 
 TO WOMAN. 
 
 woman! come and let me gaze 
 My life away into thine eyes, 
 
 And catch Affection's sacred rays 
 As they from thy fond heart arise. 
 
 'Tis thou and thou alone canst smile 
 My mind's tumultuous clouds away. 
 
 For thou in but a little while 
 
 Oould laug^i a sad souled hermit gay. 
 
 Wlien Life's rude path seems all forlorn, 
 My happiness I find with you. 
 
 1 loved j^ou 'mid life's early morn, 
 And now would scorn to prove untrue. 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The winding streams o'erhung with trees, 
 Fill in thy verse a votive place- 
 
 The dewy lawns and flow'ry leas 
 Appear in Natuie's native grace, 
 
 With all the Avoodland's minstrels rude 
 And blooms that scent sad Solitude. 
 
 And thou hast sung with wond'rous skill 
 How passion sways the human heart; 
 
 Seen sorrow's pang or pleasure's thrill; 
 Viewed lovers meet and lovers part. 
 
 And thou hast lingered, knelt and wept 
 Beside tlie grave where valor slept. 
 40 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Man's weal and woe meet in tliy song 
 And all to wiliich his mind aspires, 
 
 With what few gifts to him belong, 
 His virtues and his ill desires; 
 
 And he who views thy silent tomb 
 Behold where drooped Poesy's bloom. 
 
 TO THE CRICKET. 
 
 Sing on thou minstrel of my hearth, 
 I loved thy song in other years. 
 
 It brings me back my hours of mirth, 
 It brings me back my smiles and tears. 
 
 Alas! 'tis mournful when I'm sad, 
 And cheerful when I feel most gay. 
 
 But Oh! if thou my being haid 
 Misfortune soon would hush thy lay. 
 
 I've heard thee sing while Boreas kept 
 His piteous moan around my cot. 
 
 And Mem'ry o'er her records swept, 
 
 To bring back thoughts long, long forgot. 
 
 I've heard thee sing while Campbell's page 
 There woke a smile, liere claimed a tear. 
 
 And Gray's — a gem in ev'ry age — 
 Rang sweetly in my boyish ear. 
 
 Thy chirping notes lend Pollock's lay 
 A pathos rare, a cadence deep. 
 
 Proud Byron's harshness melts away. 
 And White awakes the harp to weep. 
 
 I've heard thee sing while Dryden pour'd 
 His brilliance in heroic strains. 
 
 And Moore, with Freedom's spirit soar'd. 
 Till Erin shook her galling Chains. 
 41 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Yes, sing when Cowper's fertile brain 
 Cast all its sparkling gems around. 
 
 And Cik)ldsmifch, thro' his mellow strain, 
 At ev'ry step made hallowed ground. 
 
 I've heard thee sing when Halleck showed 
 His rev'rence for the peasant's powers. 
 
 Andl Bryant's tuneful numbers flowed 
 Like rippling streams from fragrant bow'rs. 
 
 Beneath my hearthstone all aflame, 
 As hoarsely moaned the wintry blast, 
 
 Thy song was heard while Rogers eame 
 With glowing, pictures of the past. 
 
 Sweet minstrel, I have heard thee sing 
 When Burns woke Fancy from her goal. 
 
 And pitelied his lays on ev'ry string 
 That vibrates in the human soul. 
 
 LINES TO JOHN W. ADCOCK. 
 
 Muse, if thou shalt e'er one tribute bring, 
 C!ome string the harp and let thy echoes ring. 
 Here would I breatlie an early comrade's praise — 
 A loved companion of my better days. 
 
 Aye, one with soul sincere; with motives pure, 
 Wiliom poverty has rendered yet obscure. 
 Yes, one whose smile filled all my heart with joy 
 Ere Beauty took that heart in her employ. 
 Oh! one for whom Affection's soul might melt; 
 One in whose weal I've long an interest felt. 
 Yea, one who views my faults by twilight dim, 
 Andl loves my verse because I rev'rence him. 
 
 1 now behold our youthful haunts again; 
 
 There plays the stream that caught our glances then; 
 Here lie our castle stones all strewn around; 
 42 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Our leaning towers are leveled with the giound. 
 Those little mills, which we erected here, 
 Like those bright hours, have i-un their brief career. 
 Our thrones of moss— those tiny hillocks green — 
 Are swept away and nowhere to be seen. 
 
 Twas here we sat and whiled the hours away, 
 AVliile o'er and o'er the mockbird sang her lay. 
 'Twas here we played ere to our bosoms came 
 Thy wish to roam, my burning love of fame. 
 'Twas here, with lofty hopes in after times. 
 We sat while I rehearsed my early rhymes. 
 Then we alike had shared the love of song 
 And thought our lays, tiho' void of measure, strong. 
 To these gi-een shores we then were wont to stray 
 And build the schemes for manhood's riper day; 
 Talk o'er the bliss that future years woukli bring. 
 And soar wifh Fancy on unwearied wing. 
 
 'Twas here that each made mention of his claim 
 To future glory, grandeur, wealth and fame. 
 And here, on this soft herbage, we reclined, 
 Wlhen gentler thoughts were fondlings of thy mind. 
 And I in love with all that e'er was fair, 
 Had placed my heart in smiling Beauty's oare. 
 Ah! then, how bright were all our future schemes; 
 Fair visions rose to bless our midniglit dreams. 
 Then, with more zeal, I struck the am'rous lyre. 
 Than e'er the madman beat the wall of Tyre. 
 My heart o'erflowed with purer bliss the while. 
 Than Sylla's when he caught Valeria's smile. 
 But now tihose happy hours have past away. 
 With all their transports, loves and visions gay. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 I know not wihy, but yet I love to view 
 Each spot of earth that makes me think of you. 
 T know not why, but all the hills around, 
 \\1iere we have strayed, seem consecrated ground. 
 43 
 
HEART WHOPPERS 
 
 I pass no spot, where'er by chance we met, 
 But holds its spell o'er all my feelings yet. 
 No wild bird sings the lays we loved of yore, 
 That thrills not yet my bosom to its core. 
 And round, red Sol ne'er liies him down the west, 
 To bathe ihis burning brow in Ocean's breast. 
 But one brief glance upon his fiery track, 
 In Fancj^'s eye brings happy childhood back. 
 
 O could we be once more as we were tlien, 
 And Avander thro' those blissful years again! 
 O could we linger by the streamlet's side 
 As we were wont in childhood's joy and pride! 
 And see smooth faces in its dimpling tide, 
 That none might blush to own or seek to hide; 
 
 could we pause to hear the wild birds sing. 
 As then they sang of many a joyous thing! 
 To feel the winds that with our ringlets played. 
 And trace again tlie jiatlis wliere once we strayed. 
 
 Alas! thy long nursed tendency to roam 
 Has led thy feet far from thy early home. 
 I've sighed and o'er thy absence long may sigh 
 Ere thou again shalt greet my eager eye. 
 
 1 meet thee in my dreams and we pursue 
 Our childish games on all the lawns we knew; 
 And 'neath the mossy rocks we take our seat, 
 
 On which the storms of Time's rude morning beat. 
 And when, at length, the bright illusion flies, 
 My heart is sad and tear drops fill mine eyes. 
 
 O John! our boyish schemes are past and gone, 
 And we from youth to age are stumbling on. 
 Manhood's rude scene awhile our step delays. 
 And I have grown less fond of empty praise. 
 The maids of whom we dreamt in years gone by 
 Have but few charms for Manhood's sober eye. 
 And we have wed not those of boyhood's day, 
 But fairer maids and younger far than they. 
 
 44 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Now, fare thee well, and from thy glowing hearth 
 Let this sad strain not banish peace and mirth. 
 Night after night my heart is with you there; 
 Night after night enjoys the vacant chair. 
 On idle days, when snow storms sweep the lea, 
 Beside that hearth prepare a seat for me. 
 
 TO A DEAD EAGLE. 
 
 Proud bird, thine eyes are closed in death. 
 Thy dream of life has passed away. 
 
 Now, thou art done with fleeting breath, 
 And done with cruel Time for aye. 
 
 Thy wing shall ride the breeze no more 
 Thro' yonder boundless fields of air; 
 
 In those bright realms its flights are o'er. 
 Though long it rode exultant there. 
 
 And thou hast seen the mighty main, 
 Hast watched its billows roll and fret, 
 
 Hast gazed upon the battle plain, 
 Wlien face to face the legions met. 
 
 Perchance, beheld thro' clouds of smoke. 
 
 When peal on peal beshook the world, 
 Grim Battle strike his deadly stroke. 
 
 And seen his victims downward hurl'd. 
 
 In Heaven thou hast soared and screamed, 
 Beyond the sight of groveling man, 
 
 Until our mighty rivers seemed 
 To thee no broader than a span. 
 
 Yes, soared until the snow-clad peaks 
 And the blue main seemed all the same. 
 
 Then hastened on till thy wild shrieks 
 Resounded through the solar frame. 
 
 45 
 
HEART Wnil^PERS 
 
 In life, great speed of flight was thine, 
 For tliou couldst dart before the gale; 
 
 One moment skim the boiling brine. 
 And next disport across the vale. 
 
 And thou to mountain peaks remote, 
 To rear thy nest, were wont to go. 
 
 From which to view the shaggy gx)at. 
 Then watoh the bustling world below. 
 
 But earthly power at length must yield, 
 And ends its race, too oft like thee. 
 
 Of him who loved the battle-field, 
 Proud bird, thou hast reminded me. 
 
 He reveled in the glare of Fame, 
 Then in disgrace closed his career. 
 
 And thou hast neared yon solar flame. 
 Low at my feet to moulder here. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Written in reply to Byron's answer to Montgomery's "'Common Lot." 
 
 Yes, Byron, yes, our mother earth 
 
 Shall fold us all in her embrace. 
 These hours of transport, joy and mirth. 
 
 Oblivion's tides will soon efface. 
 
 We'll sink 'neath Time's ungentle wave, 
 And sleep when life's short scene is o'er. 
 
 And we poor creatures need not crave 
 To add to life one dull act more. 
 
 The young, the old, the grave, the gay. 
 The vain, the wealthy and the proud^ 
 
 All sport Life's little scene away. 
 And sleep beneath the snowy sihroud. 
 
 46 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 The patriot's frame, like all the rest, 
 
 Shall join again its native clay. 
 Nor may the bard's enchanted breast 
 
 Escape tlie horrors of decay. 
 
 But these are names that shall not sleep 
 In grim Oblivion's gloomy shade. 
 
 Yes, names o'er which the world may weep 
 Till Time on his cold couch is laid. 
 
 When shall that fearless patriot die 
 
 Who falls in love with liberty, 
 And shuts in death his fiery eye. 
 
 That his loved land may yet be free? 
 
 Ah! never till the last sad sand 
 
 Of Time is run and all is o'er. 
 Shall Wallace, Tell, Bruce, Emmett, and 
 
 Our Washington survive no more. 
 
 And thou, tho' calmly sleeps thy frame 
 Beneath the cold and silent stone. 
 
 On Fame's loud trump thy miglity name 
 Thro' future ages shall be blown. 
 
 For, through thy fancy rude and wild 
 Grim visagedl heroes strolled along, 
 
 "The Giaour," "The Corsair" and the "Childe"- 
 All live immortal in thy song. 
 
 Ah! many a plow-boy yet to be 
 
 Shall light his taper at thy flame. 
 
 And borne on Fancy's pinions free 
 Survey the slippery heights of Fame. 
 
 Then need we rear the stumbling stone 
 Where bard's or patriot's embers lie. 
 
 Around their dust why need we moan, 
 Why weep for those who cannot die? 
 
 47 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 VERSES 
 
 On the demise of Wm. Cullen Bryant. 
 
 He sleeps, who woke Columbia's noblest song, 
 And swept his hand the quiv'ring strings along. 
 Oh! how my bounding heart Avas filled with fire 
 To catch the breathings of his sacred lyre. 
 His thoughts were pure, my intellect was young. 
 And found melodious verse in all he sung. 
 
 He sleeps whom once the nation sought to praise. 
 And grew exultant o'er his melting lays. 
 Oh! how I long to meet his honest face, 
 And sha.re his converse in some peaceful place; 
 Gaze in his eye, survey his hoary hairs. 
 And catch the vsmile declining Genius Avears. 
 
 48 
 
ELEGIAC POEMS 
 
 AN AUTUMN NIGHT. 
 
 'Tis night, the cricket chirps beneath my hearth, 
 The clouds are low and black and threaten rain, 
 While howling winds besweep the naked plain 
 
 And toss the leaves in clusters on the earth. 
 
 I turn to view the old clock on the wall, 
 
 Tlie lengthy hours glide on, sad, lone and slow. 
 Alas! in early years it was not so. 
 
 But let me not the dreams of youth recall. 
 
 The rain begins, the blast still moans aloud. 
 
 Low burns the flame that lights my lonely room. 
 While round my cot still deeper grows the gloom. 
 
 Ck)ld Earth lies wrapped in Midnight's dusky shroud. 
 
 FAREWELL, SWEET STREAM. 
 
 Sweet stream, full oft at sultry noon 
 
 Have I reclined upon thy shore, 
 But I must sleep or late or soon, 
 
 And thou'lt play on when I'm no more. 
 Yes, when I shall have done with time, 
 
 And these frail limbs sleep in the clay, 
 Thou, thou wilt then be in thy prime, 
 
 And still sport on thy pebbly way. 
 
 Well I have watched in brighter days 
 Thy ripples wand'ring wild and free, 
 
 And heard with joy the raptured lays 
 Of minstrels in each leafy tree. 
 49 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 But fare ye well, ye woodlamls dear, 
 Ye flowers and warblers of the tree, 
 
 And thou, sweet stream, for once and e'er 
 Here let me breathe farewell to thee. 
 
 TO A WORM, 
 
 Which I saw in my path. 
 
 No, no, I will not crush thy tiny form, 
 
 For that great Hand gave each of us his birth. 
 
 Then still pursue thy way, in calm or storm, 
 Across the bosom of thy mother Earth. 
 
 For when thy fitful dream of life is o'er. 
 By Nature's law thou slialt return to clay, 
 
 And thy lone dust shall wake to life no more. 
 No, no, but slumber on fore'cr and aye. 
 
 Sad worm, 'tis true I much resemble thee. 
 
 I, too, was dust and back to dust shall go. 
 But He who formed us both has given me 
 
 What yet shall live when I shall moulder low. 
 
 WHEN THIS FRAIL FORM. 
 
 When this frail form is laid to rest, 
 Low in the cold andl dismal clay. 
 
 And grass grows o'er my silent breast. 
 Which there shall sleep and there decay. 
 
 Thus laid to rest, where'er it be. 
 
 I would no eye should weep for me. 
 
 If e'er my tongue has chanced to wake 
 Affection in fair woman's heart, 
 50 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I would not grief that heart should break, 
 
 No, let it far from her depart. 
 And may her bosom still be free — 
 I would no eye sliould weep for me. 
 
 How vain is he who would request 
 The tear to bathe one glowing eye. 
 
 Or lask remembrance of the breast 
 That ne'er till then had cause to sigh. 
 
 'Tis not my wish and ne'er shall be — 
 
 I would no eye should weep for me. 
 
 The cold green sod shall wrap my breast, 
 Andl this young heart forget its mirth; 
 
 This burning brow shall find its rest 
 Deep in the lap of mother Earth. 
 
 But no bathed eye may any see — 
 
 I would no eye should weep for me. 
 
 TO TIME. 
 
 O Time! I little care how soon 
 
 I pay thee all I owe. 
 For Life is drawing near its noon, 
 
 And yet unmixed with woe. 
 
 Hope, Peace and Joy in days gone by 
 On frightened pinions flew. 
 
 And I, perchance, without a sigh, 
 Could part with being, too. 
 
 THROUGH LIFE'S SHORT SCENE. 
 
 Thro' life's short scene I'm hast'ning on, 
 
 With bosom sad and stern. 
 I've none to sigh when I am gone, 
 
 Or smile when I return. 
 51 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Wlien I shall sleep that silent sleep 
 
 No one will shed a tear; 
 Nor do I ask one friend to weep 
 
 Around my humble bier. 
 
 Let me return from whence I came, 
 
 Unwept, unsung, unknown. 
 And cumber only with my name 
 
 My monumental stone. 
 Should that not call remembrance up 
 
 In Friendiship's sacred bi-east, 
 Then let me sip Oblivion's cup, 
 
 And there in silence rest. 
 
 LINES 
 
 Written at a Playmate's Grave. 
 
 Here sleeps beneath this silent stone 
 A form I knew iri gayer hours. 
 
 But ten fleet years since then have flown, 
 And robed his lowly mound in flowers. 
 
 He sleeps in grim Death's cold embrace; 
 
 His struggles, cares and toils are o'er. 
 I meet no more his well-known face, 
 
 I see his eye's gay glance no more. 
 
 All silent lies his youthful breast, 
 And mine ere long may sleep as low. 
 
 For life's dull scene is short at best. 
 And soon or late I, too, must go. 
 
 PALE SCYNTHIA. 
 
 Pale Scynthia stood midway the skies, 
 One half her nightly race was o'er. 
 
 Her face looked fair to lovers' eyes. 
 Her beams lay bright on many a shore. 
 52 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 We thought that Scjaithia smiled to see 
 Our glowing lips in kisses meet, 
 
 And we, poor creatures, hoped to be 
 Thus happy through life's lone retreat. 
 
 But now, sweet girl, those hopes are dead, 
 And Seynthia's race has long been run. 
 
 My feeble form lies stretched in bed, 
 And life's short scene will soon be done. 
 
 LINES 
 
 On the death of Theodore Gaylord Radcliffe. 
 
 He sleeps with no fond heart to keep 
 
 Her vigils by his bed. 
 And few with tears have knelt to steep 
 
 The green turf o'er his head. 
 But why lament, such is the lot 
 
 Misguided Genius shares. 
 In life unknown, in death forgot 
 
 Ai-e Fame's deluded heirs. 
 
 He sleeps without one slab to mark 
 
 Where fades his tiny frame. 
 Yes, sleeps, and that immortal spark 
 
 Returned from whence it came. 
 But, husli, for pale eyed Genius weeps 
 
 O'er many a hillock far, 
 A^Hiere, by all else foi-gotten, sleeps 
 
 An ill-directed star. 
 
 'TWAS SAD TO YIELD HER UP. 
 
 Alas! 'Twas sad to yield her up. 
 So young, so fair for earth to keep. 
 
 But we who mourn shall taste the cup. 
 And as she sleeps, at length shall sleep. 
 53 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Her face and form, in molds of dust, 
 Wei-e all that one need hope to find. 
 
 Oh! when the fair and gentle must 
 Return to earth, Fate seems unkind. 
 
 Deep sighs were heaved, sad tears were shed, 
 By those who might not be consoled. 
 
 When brawny ihands upon her head 
 Began to heap the darken'd mould. 
 
 Nor were her kindred left to weep 
 
 Alone, that silent bosom near. 
 No heart so cold but melts to heap 
 
 The cruel clods on Beauty's bier. 
 
 JOCUND YOUTH. 
 
 Oh! when I think of jocund youth 
 
 It starts the pensive tear. 
 Those hours of transport, love and truth, 
 
 To all my heart were dear. 
 But where is she, that flow'ret fair, 
 Who in my bosom chanced to share 
 
 Affection's earliest I'ay? 
 Though all is briglit and smooth around, 
 My mem'ry decks the mossy mound 
 
 Where sleeps her humble clay. 
 
 Oh! w'hen I think of jocund youth, 
 
 With all its smiles and tears. 
 Meek-eyed Devotion hails in sooth 
 
 Those happy, happy years. 
 There lay the lawn, the streamlet, there 
 The glen and tangled woodiland, where 
 
 I spent my brightest days. 
 give me back those happy hours. 
 The streamlet, forest, lawn and flow'rs, 
 
 And take my meed of praise. 
 54 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 IT WILL BE SWEET. 
 
 It will be sweet when life has fled, 
 With all its dusky train of woes, 
 
 To rest my lone and silent head, 
 
 Where now the bending herbage blows. 
 
 Then, cruel Time, I shall not cai-e 
 
 How wild you wave your mighty wing. 
 
 Thy flight shall not molest me there, 
 Nor to my heart one struggle bring. 
 
 RICHARD H. DANA. 
 
 Alas! they tell me thou art gone — 
 Thou whom I loved in childhood's day 
 
 A nation mourns while on and on 
 Time hastens with unbroken sway. 
 
 I'dl hoped to meet that face of thine 
 Ere thou or I should pass away. 
 
 But now Poesy may repine 
 
 Above where thy cold limbs decay. 
 
 AND THEY ARE GONE. 
 
 And they are gone, alone and still 
 
 They left thee to decay. 
 And Boreas, moaning on the hill, 
 
 Passed o'er thy heap of clay. 
 
 Yes, left thee 'neath thy new made mo\nid 
 
 In silence to repose. 
 Till Time's stupendous ball is wound 
 
 Unto its destined close. 
 55 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I stood to Avatch the mould congeal 
 
 Above thy silent brow. 
 And idle words may not reveal 
 
 My soul's deep sadness now. 
 
 Pale Phoebe throws her silver light 
 
 Now o'er thy frozen bed. 
 There shalt thou sleep this lonely night, 
 
 Nor know the tears I shed. 
 
 'Tis done, alas! and I'm alone, 
 
 Thy happy soul has fled. 
 And all I'd thought to make my own 
 
 Is silent, cold and dead. 
 
 Yes, thou art gone and left me here, 
 
 A sad-souled rambler still. 
 And fonder heart may kneel not near 
 
 Where sleep thy embers chill. 
 
 Shall I forget, or in my mind 
 Can all tby smiles and tears 
 
 Be lost with wihat is left behind 
 Of childhood's happy years? 
 
 No, ne'er forget thy parting smile, 
 
 Forget thy whispered tone; 
 Or tears, which seem'd so sad the while, 
 
 But shed for me alone. 
 
 I'M TWENTY-SEVEN. 
 
 'Tis sev'n o'clock, 'tis past; Time steals along. 
 
 I have now lived seven and twenty years. 
 I'm sad — sad words are suited to my song; 
 
 My heart is used to sighs; mine eye to tears. 
 
 Five minutes now are lost in endless gloom, 
 To mark Time's rapid flight; I hold my breath: 
 56 
 
HEART WHTFIPERS 
 
 I'm now five minutes nearer to my doom — 
 Five minutes closer to the monster, ];)eath. 
 
 Another flies. Time! thy mighty wing 
 ^,0 human skill or force can e'er subdue. 
 
 I'll soon be swept from out the busy ring; 
 Soon tender Time the onlv tribute due. 
 
 SHE SLEEPS. 
 
 She sleeps, that sweet and ijentle flower, 
 
 Tliat idol of my boyhood's day, 
 And let me spend this lonely hour 
 
 In tears beside her ihumble clay. 
 I have wept! — ^but tears are vain 
 "When Beauty treads the dark domain 
 
 Of pale-eyed, hollow- featured Death — 
 Yes, wept to think that Beauty's bloom 
 To tihe dim portals of the tomb 
 
 vShould e'er be made to yield her breath. ' 
 
 'Twas here they placed lior young, fair form, 
 
 In quietude to mouldter low, 
 Wlien maidenhood's first blushes warm, 
 
 On her smooth cheek began to glow. 
 She seemed the magnet of my way, 
 A sunbeam in Life's stormy day 
 
 To light the lonely path I trod. 
 But she, that sweet and tender flower. 
 Bright bloom from Beauty's bonny bower. 
 
 Has rendered back her gifts to God. 
 
 HER STILLY TOMB. 
 
 O she was fair! her features wore 
 
 The brightest blush of childhood's bloom. 
 Her soul was pure, but ask no more — 
 She sleeps beneath the stilly tomb. 
 57 
 
HEART WHTSPERS; 
 
 In A-ain, in vain, our skill we tried, 
 To drive the INIonster from her room. 
 
 We wept, we prayed, but yet she died. 
 And sleeps beneath the stilly tomb. 
 
 Oh! I have wept and yet shall weep, 
 I mourn her loss — her early doom. 
 
 My heart has kept, and yet shall keep, 
 Its vigil by her stilly tomb. 
 
 WHEN I'M NO MORE. 
 
 When I'm no more and wild weeds wave 
 O'er where my embers moulder. 
 
 A nation's taunts beside my grave. 
 Would make my dust no colder. 
 
 On my low couch I'd sleep the same. 
 Nor heed the wild commotion; 
 
 Though high above my silent frame 
 Should sweep the boiling ocean. 
 
 I'll lieed not tho' bright eyes grow dim, 
 And Friendship'vS tears are swelling 
 
 "Wlien all that I possess of Him 
 Deserts its earthly dwelling. 
 
 Fond) (hands at gentle Spring's return 
 May strew their laurels o'er me. 
 
 But naught I'll care in my cold urn, 
 Tho' millions should adore me. 
 
 Then let me sleep, unwept, unblamed, 
 'Neath willow, yew or holly. 
 
 The love of praise, which once inflamed, 
 I've long since reckoned folly. 
 
 58 
 
HEART WIlIi^PERS 
 
 I SOON SHALL SLEEP. 
 
 I soon shall sleep, aye, soon repose j 
 
 Soon yield my feeble breath, 
 For life is like the morning rose, 
 
 And fades as soon in death. 
 Life's little day ere long must close, 
 And I shall sink in sweet repose. 
 Deep in my cold and narrow grave. 
 Beneath where now the willows wave. 
 And when these limbs thus moulder low 
 I shall have done with pain and woe, 
 And ev'ry random sting of care 
 That cruel Fate proclaimed my share. 
 
 I VIEWED THE SPOT. 
 
 I viewed the spot wliere sweetly slept 
 
 The idol of my boyish heart. 
 The good, the brave and wise have wept — 
 
 The fond and true been forced to part. 
 
 But who nuiy feel more than I felt. 
 As there I paused above her clay? 
 
 Alas! I thought my heart would melt, 
 And weep itself in tears away. 
 
 Remembrance sigh'd o'er those bright hours, 
 Wlien she, who there lay slumb'ring low. 
 
 Had helped me cull life's fairest flowers. 
 When love and hope were in their glow. 
 
 59 
 
HEART WHII^PERS 
 
 LINES 
 
 Composed while gazing ou my mother's grave. 
 
 If thoughts, emotions could reveal, 
 
 Or the full heart unfold. 
 All I have felt, all that I feel, 
 
 ShouM' unto thee be told. 
 
 But I forget, my reason flies. 
 
 Thy dust alone is there; 
 Thy deathless part did in the skies 
 
 To its bright home repair. 
 
 But flying Time ere long will bring 
 
 A winding sheet for me. 
 And my vexed soul shall plume its wing 
 
 To fly in search of thee. 
 
 Then by thy side they'll place at rest 
 
 All that is left of me. 
 Earth ne'er another spot possessed 
 
 Where I should wish to be. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 To a daisy that grew between the graves of my father and mother. 
 
 Bloom on, sweet flow'ret of the woodland wild. 
 Thou hast the dearest spot of earth to me. 
 
 Long years have vanished since I was a child, 
 And shared the lot kind Nature grants to thee. 
 
 I was their first and I was wont to sleep 
 
 Between the hearts that here return to clay. 
 
 My life was bright, I little thought to weep 
 Al>ove their cold remains this lovely day. 
 
 Their faces paled and threads of silver came 
 To mingle with their locks of raven hue. 
 60 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 111 Eden's boAv'rs my heart slept on the same, 
 Nor dreamt for once its thoughtlessness to rue. 
 
 Tihe days wound on — then three score years and ten 
 Seemed longer than eternity seems now. 
 
 Those vanished years I'd fain enjoy again — 
 Such love as theirs; such kisses on my brow. 
 
 I slumbered till consumption's iron grip 
 
 Had snapped Life's chord and her bright spirit freed. 
 Then I awoke, Fate's bitter cup to sip; 
 
 Awoke to feel my own pierced bosom bleed. 
 
 My heart bled on for two and twenty years, 
 Then he was called and by her side he sleeps. 
 
 Bloom on, flow'ret sweet! and drink my tears. 
 Between these mounds my heart its vigil keeps. 
 
 LINES 
 
 On the death of Charles Francis Hewlett, the great violinist. 
 
 Wliat mighty groups in weeds appear, 
 "V^Hien fools, or knaves, or bigots die. 
 
 And e'en a few will shed a tear 
 
 Wlien Genius heaves his parting sigh. 
 
 When in his last and silent sleep 
 
 A genius bows his silvered head, 
 The good, the wise and gen'rous weep 
 
 For ages round his lowly bed. 
 
 But some have shared the tears of all; 
 
 The vain, the wild and virtuous wept 
 When night let death's dark shadows fall, 
 
 And noble-hearted Hewlett slept. 
 
 And he is gone, his country's tears 
 
 Can ne'er repair the loss it felt. 
 His matdliless skill his name endears. 
 
 His gifted hand the heart could melt. 
 61 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Yes, he is gone; on yondter iliill 
 
 That mighty hand lies nerveless now. 
 
 That gen'rous heart is cold and still, 
 And silence wraps that furrowed brow. 
 
 LINES 
 
 Composed on lingering by the grave of Charles Francis Hewlett. 
 
 Tlie sun had crept behind the hill; 
 
 'Twas Ev'ning's softest hour, 
 And Twilight's tears return'd to fill 
 
 The gently closing flower. 
 The lark her ev'ning hymn had sung, 
 
 And left the bending spray. 
 The willow's boughs in silence hung 
 
 Like friendship o'er decay. 
 
 Not one soft breeze appeared to wave 
 
 The odorous jasmine bloom, 
 That grew by matchless Hewlett's grave, 
 
 And clambered' o'er his tonrb. 
 I stood beside his mound in tears, 
 
 My heart's great lig^ht was there. 
 And I could see, through vanished years. 
 
 The silver in his hair. 
 
 Across my mind strange visions strode. 
 
 Like spectres jjale and grim. 
 There, mouldering lay in its abode. 
 
 All death had won of him. 
 There slept his dust, alas! and yet 
 
 What gulfs between us lay. 
 My mind, still striving with regret, 
 
 Sought converse with his clav. 
 
 62 
 
HEART WUlkiPERS 
 
 LINES 
 
 On the death of John Greenleaf Whittier, adcht'ssed to Sir Alfred, 
 Lord Tennyson. 
 
 He sleejjs, our white-haired poet sleeps, 
 
 Despite the love \v€ bore him. 
 Witih tear bathed eyes Columbia keeps 
 
 Her midnight vigils o'er him. 
 His verse was pure, it did in part 
 
 My young affections capture. 
 I loved it for it filled my heart 
 
 Witli no vain dreams of rapture. 
 
 He sleeps, tho' age had seamed his brow 
 
 All youthful were his numbers. 
 He sleeps, our loudest plaudits now 
 
 Break not his peaceful slumbers. 
 Yes, he has gone, in Earth's cold breast, 
 
 His silvered head reposes. 
 We loved him, but he sank to rest 
 
 With sad September's roses. 
 
 He sleeps, he sleeps, but why complain. 
 
 His memory lives undying. 
 For, echoed in his plaintive strain, 
 
 I hear "Maud Muller" sighing. 
 I shut my eyes to see the maid. 
 
 Her blushes to discover. 
 And by the streamlet in the shade 
 
 To face her courtly lover. 
 
 I see her now, with dimpled hand 
 
 She gives the cup o'erflowing — 
 Aye, see the rustic maiden stand, 
 
 Her bare, brown ankles showing. 
 The pictures rise, they come and go. 
 
 My fancy travels faster. 
 His heart, his heart, is doomed to woe, 
 
 Who takes Pride for his master. 
 
 63 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I hear in painful numbers told 
 
 Why he was forced to sever 
 With her who slumbers still and cold, 
 
 Aye, still and oold forever. 
 Beside her mound I seem to hear 
 
 His great warm heart repining; 
 While I perceive the scalding tear 
 
 Within his dark eye shining. 
 
 Wlio may not feel liis heart expand, 
 
 Who may not feel elated, 
 O'er pictures by his skillful hand. 
 
 Though forty years belated? 
 Beside the road, who may not see. 
 
 By sumachs half surrounded, 
 The school house, where, in boyhood he 
 
 His young affections founded? 
 
 I see that brown-eyed little maid — 
 
 That maid with golden tresses — 
 And see her anxious footsteps stayed 
 
 To give those fond eai-esses. 
 E'en see that shame-faced school-boy near; 
 
 Yes, see his sad tears streaming. 
 And I behold one tender tear 
 
 Within each brown eye gleaming. 
 
 I see her clasp his trembling hand, 
 
 Those words of love bestowing. 
 But my own heart is heaving, and 
 
 I feel my owti tears flowing. 
 I think me now of one fair form 
 
 That I ledl by the wild-wood. 
 But I have had some days of storm 
 
 Since those bright ones of childhood. 
 
 But hold, my Muse, for I presume 
 This wail should be suspended, 
 
 Since he is gone, ah! he for whom 
 These numbers were intended. 
 64 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Two stars that graced Poesy's skies 
 
 Have set and set forever. 
 To say Avhat two shall next arise 
 
 I need not now endeavor. 
 
 LINES 
 
 On the death of Sir Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 
 
 Sleep on in\mortal bard of Britain's isle, 
 For silence sits within thy mighty breast. 
 
 Sleep on beneath that grand' and stately pile, 
 "Wliere noble heads and noble bosoms rest. 
 
 Sleep on in peace, for we have tears to shed 
 When Genius yields his embers to the tomb. 
 
 Thy voice is silent, but thou art not dead- 
 Long since, within our hearts, we gave thee room. 
 
 We weep, but not as we would weep for one 
 W"ho had in early manhood passed away. 
 
 For thou wert rich in years — ^^thy task was done, 
 And nature fell a victim to decay. 
 
 Who knows what noble work was left undone, 
 WTiat gems were left to glitter in the deep, 
 
 Wlien thoughtless, homeless, brilliant Cliatterton, 
 With his own hand, put his sad heart to sleep? 
 
 ^Vho knows what diamond's in their caves were left, 
 Wliat golden heaps remained beneath the hill. 
 
 When Fate the tender thread of life had cleft 
 And gen'rous White in death lay cold and still? 
 
 Wlio knows what mighty treasures disappear'd, 
 Or knows what burning words remained unsaid; 
 
 What monuments of verse were yet unreared. 
 When the cold turf was heaped on Byron's head? 
 
 65 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Who knoAVS what heroes in liis fancy slept, 
 What wordls of pathos still were unexprest, 
 
 Or what sweet songs Burns, in his fond heart kept, 
 Till silence set at ease his tortured breast? 
 
 These gems are lost, now lost to all mankind; 
 
 None can achieve what they have left undone. 
 To each, at birth, a life-work is assigned. 
 
 But death may come when it is but begun. 
 
 A few days since I tuned my feeble lyre 
 To sing my love and final dirge for him, 
 
 The last sweet minstrel of our famous choir 
 
 Whose love-lit eyes in death had just grown dim. 
 
 My idle Muse had scarce her theme begun 
 Ere thy great soul had gone to meet with his. 
 
 Sleep on, O silver haired and deathless one! 
 You share my love; you share my sympathies. 
 
 I seem to hear sad Albion proclaim 
 
 Her love and grief for her immortal one, 
 
 And belched from out the bellowing guns of Fame 
 The rockets burst. Sir Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 66 
 
ODES 
 
 TONIGHT. 
 
 Hail lovely Night, how soft, how calm, how still 
 Is yon deep tangled wood and distant dale. 
 
 No sound is heard, but from yon fretful rill, 
 Wiliose tide leaps on far down the gloomy vale; 
 
 'Tis sweet to gaze upon the far off hill, 
 ^Vhich smiles array'd in Phoebe's grandeurs pale. 
 
 No cloud is seen on the horizon's brim, 
 No mist obscures pale Dian's lovely face. 
 
 And scores on scores of tiny planets swim 
 Bright, blazing in the ethereal space; 
 
 I ween I almost see the throne of Him 
 
 Who made these worlds and gave to each its place. 
 
 TO PEACE. 
 
 Peace! thou bird with plumage bright. 
 Come back and spread thy gentle wings 
 O'er green Columbia's breast; 
 Come with the stilly hours of night. 
 For War has hushed his murmurings 
 And lain his sword to rest. 
 
 O thou! from Heaven's mighty throne. 
 
 To Eden's bright dominion sent. 
 
 But soon exiled from there; 
 
 Since then from ev'ry land and zone 
 
 Thou hast suffered banishment; 
 
 An exile everywhere. 
 
 67 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 O timid bird! come to thy nest, 
 And let our land from sea to sea 
 Bask in thy sacred smile; 
 Ne'er more may war disturb thy breast, 
 And cause thy frigihten'd wing to flee, 
 To some lone ocean's isle. 
 
 TO VIRTUE. 
 
 Virtue! I rev'rence thy high sounding name, 
 
 1 loved thee in childhood, nor j^et have I changed; 
 
 My bosom still beats with affections the same, 
 Tho' at times very far from thee have I rang'd. 
 
 What numbers with folly have long vigils kept. 
 Not dreaming that pleasure is found but in thee, 
 
 Till low in the quagmire of Ruin they slept 
 
 Unwept by their comrades on Life's swelling sea. 
 
 Virtue! how few of our lust loving race. 
 One moment would linger to welcome thy smile; 
 
 Or close to their bosoms in melting embrace. 
 
 Thro' heart- feeling fondness would press thee awhile? 
 
 TO THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 Refulgent Orb, thj^ pleasing face 
 Has greeted many a labor'r's view, 
 
 As home he strayed with tardy pace 
 To meet again the waiting few. 
 
 At the first smile thy pale brow throws. 
 The bee forsakes the closing flower; 
 
 The drowsy bat from her repose 
 
 Conies forth on that delightful hour. 
 68 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 The timid dove and busy wren 
 
 Flee home to rest wlien tliou art seen — 
 The wliip-poor-will awakes the glen 
 
 And flickering liglits dash o'er the green. 
 
 Full many a time do those who roam, 
 One moment turn thy face to view, 
 
 And smile to think some one at home 
 May then be gazing on it too. 
 
 TO SLEEP. 
 
 Sweet Sleep, how often in thy downy lap 
 Have I reclined my aching head to rest, 
 
 Wihen care and toil and many a sad mishap 
 Had driven hope from out my youthful breast? 
 
 How have I wooed thee and thy soft caress, 
 
 When slow disease had wrung my tortured heart; 
 
 How have I bathed my soul in peacefulness. 
 And felt thy fetters bind without a smart. 
 
 'Tis thou that soothes the sailor's weary breast, 
 Far driven from his own dear native isle, 
 
 'Tis thou that gives the labor'r's bosom rest 
 And frees the chain-bound wretch a little while. 
 
 Sleep! thou bring'st me back my happy hours, 
 Thou bring'st me back my boyhood, wonted glee, 
 
 ^Vllen Fancy stood beside my path with flowers 
 And Marv's smile made life so bright for me. 
 
 TO A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 O happy thing! thou liv'st thy day 
 Unknown to care, unknown to toil; 
 
 Thou breath'st thy life's sweet hours away, 
 ^'^Hien fairest flow'rs bedeck the soil. 
 69 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 When Spring unfolds her gorgeous robe 
 To wrap Eartli's cold, damp bosom in, 
 
 Tliou com'st, and this our perfect globe 
 Without thee had imperfect been. 
 
 Earth's fairest flow'rs unfold to thee 
 Their golden sweets, joyous thing! 
 
 The softest breeze that sweeps the lea, 
 Seems pleased to waft thy painted wing. 
 
 TO HEALTH. 
 
 Hail sprightly Health, throughout my veins. 
 The crimson current darts anew; 
 
 My breast its wonted warmth regains, 
 My cheek assumes its native hue. 
 
 The piercing pangs of slow disease, 
 Like clouds of morn have past away; 
 
 The bird that sings in yonder trees, 
 Has no more sadness in her lay. 
 
 That grassy spot is placid still, 
 
 ^^^lere I ere now had thought to sleep; 
 
 And none has climbed the winding hill, 
 O'er my cold dust her watch to keep. 
 
 Away, ye solemn thoughts, away; 
 
 A gladsome life may yet be mine. 
 Hope smiles to think my stormy day 
 
 Has set beyond the western brine. 
 
 TO DARKNESS. 
 
 Darkness! ere the sun was made, 
 Thou Avert and reigned supreme 
 Upon thy ebon throne, 
 Ere Phoebe, her fair face displayed 
 70 
 
HEART WHTSPERS 
 
 To cast one trembling beam. 
 Or moon-lit Saturn shone. 
 
 Primeval King, when thovi wert crowned 
 
 And ruled thy black domain 
 With none thy peace to mar, 
 A darker spot man ne'er has found; 
 
 And ray less caves contain 
 
 No pits that blacker are. 
 
 Tho' dark fcliy realm, some men are found. 
 Whose hearts more gloom inclose 
 Than thou wert doomed to share; 
 The orb of day in vain goes 'round, 
 And Night's pale empress throws 
 No bright effulgence there. 
 
 TO PRUDENCE. 
 
 O Prudence! had I known thee long ago, 
 
 Perchance I might have been more happy now; 
 
 In Silence's lap this pen had slumbered low 
 Nor half these marks of care defaced my brow. 
 
 Yes, had I known thee, no ungen'rous deed 
 
 Had brought its censure on my drooping head; 
 
 Harsh words that made some faithful bosom bleed, 
 Tho' often thought, had yet been left unsaid. 
 
 From early youth, if I had walked with thee, 
 And bade farewell to Folly and her train. 
 
 My sire's advice had not been lost on me. 
 And Phvsic had not sought mv aid in vain. 
 
 71 
 
EPITAPHS 
 
 ON MISS 
 
 Come ye who seek o'er Beauty's tomb, 
 
 To shed the painful tear; 
 For wrapped by earth's unbroken gloom 
 
 Her bosom moulders here. 
 
 ON A SOLDIER. 
 
 friend! if thou hast never wept, 
 Where Valor, Truth and Honor slept, 
 Approaeh this stone to leave a tear, 
 For, by my soul, they slumber here. 
 
 ON MISS M- 
 
 Could beauty, modesty and mirtli, 
 With virtue, innocence and worth. 
 Have had the boldness, skill or power 
 To keep back death's unwelcome hour. 
 This simple stone had not been here 
 To claim thy sympathetic tear. 
 
 ON 
 
 He sleeps; peace to his embers now. 
 
 Soft be his earthly pillow 
 'Neath where these hawthorn branches bow, 
 
 And waves this drooping willow. 
 72 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 He was my foe, but from 1113' breast 
 Now fades each earthly riot; 
 
 His follies, fa.rilts and errors rest 
 With him as calm ami quiet. 
 
 ON A TEACHER. 
 
 I need not tell wliat tears were shed, 
 
 What sighs broke on the list'ning ear, 
 When this good man's last bieath had fled, 
 
 And his cold limbs were buried here. 
 He was the teacher of my youth, 
 
 And one whom my young heart admir'd. 
 Oh, Virtue, Honesty and Truth! 
 
 You lost a friend when he expired. 
 
 ON A WANDERER. 
 
 'Tis done! his bosom slumbers here. 
 
 His fitful scene of life is o'er. 
 O'er his cold dust this stone we rear, 
 
 And sigh to think we give no more. 
 Perchance, by some far distant hearth, 
 
 A pensive group awaits him now; 
 Unconscious that his mother earth 
 
 Has closed above his youthful brow. 
 
 ON A FRIEND. 
 
 If we should weep o'er Virtue's sleep 
 Draw near, Oh, passer-by! 
 
 Shed one warm tear this sod to steep, 
 And heave one grateful sigh. 
 73 
 
HEART WniSPERJ^ 
 
 ON MR. A. DAVIS. 
 
 He is no more; his embers rest; 
 
 Closed is his bright career. 
 And Earth ne'er wrapped a nobler breast 
 
 Than that which slumbers here. 
 
 ON A COMRADE. 
 
 If my rude verse, alone, were left to weep 
 Where these young limbs in Earth's cold bosom sleep, 
 How sad their fate! and how neglected here • 
 Would they in five perennials appear. 
 
 ON A PRETTY COUSIN. 
 
 Ye who would shed one tender tear 
 
 O'er Beauty in her last repose, 
 Before this lowly slab appear, 
 
 To leave that tear at ev'ning's close. 
 Her matchless form, her blushing brow, 
 
 Her sparkling eyes and heaving breast, 
 Lie here in dreamless silence now, 
 
 Lie here in earth's pacific rest. 
 
 ON A PLAYMATE. 
 
 Should Adcock's verse secure a nation's praise, 
 'Tis due to him whose bosom here decays. 
 'Twas he who bade him train his youthful lyre, 
 And breathed into his heart Ambition's fire. 
 But yet how vain his skill, should he essay 
 To pour his sadness o'er this sleeping clay; 
 Or breathe into a nation's list'ning ear 
 How he reveres the dust that slumbers here. 
 74 
 
HEART WFTISPERS 
 
 ON RUBY WAYLAND. 
 
 Hush, parent?, hush, and dry your tears. 
 
 The angela know how fair 
 Your Ruby was in infant years, 
 
 When taken from your care. 
 Bcneatli this tomb her dust reclines, 
 But high in Heav'n the jewel shines. 
 
 ON DR. W. N. TOLLEY. 
 
 Gone, gone to rest from all his labors. 
 His father's pride, no less his neighbors; 
 His mind was bright, but sternly driven ; 
 Short was his life, though wisely given; 
 In yielding one he gained another; 
 In losing him Worth lost a brother; 
 He wisdom loved and hated folly; 
 ^Vhen death came near we sent for Tolley. 
 He climbed to Physic's highest story, 
 There, paused awhile and went to glory. 
 This stone tells where his dust lies sleeping, 
 And where sad hearts are vigils keeping. 
 
 ON A CHILD. 
 
 Those dimpled cheeks, those eyes of blue, 
 And silken ringlets moulder here. 
 
 She closed her eyes, her spirit flew 
 Unto its native sphere. 
 
 ON LOVELY MISS 
 
 Come, mourn with me, for Beauty's bow'r 
 
 Has lost its fairest bloom. 
 And here, in an untimely hour. 
 
 Consigned it to the tomb. 
 75 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 ON A BEAUTIFUL GIRL. 
 
 Oh, passer-by! if tliou woiild'st shed 
 One warm, bright tear o'er Beauty's bed, 
 Draw near this mound o'er-spread with vines, 
 For here her sainted dust reclines. 
 
 ON A FRIEND'S SISTER. 
 
 Beneath this stone in dust reposes 
 The cheeks that blushed like morning roses; 
 The eyes that beamed on us so brightly, 
 They made our heavy hearts beat lightly; 
 The lips that were as sweet and tender 
 As Beauty's matchless hand could render; 
 As kind a heart as earth encumbers, 
 Lies liere in death's ijacific slumbers. 
 
 ON MY COUSIN. 
 
 O'er his cold dust tliis imple stone we rear, 
 Yet ask no thoughtless boy to yield a tear. 
 Wild was his youth, and he no vigils kept 
 Where honor, virtue, tiuth or goodness slept. 
 But manhood brought some sober moments on. 
 And age bade all his recklessness begone. 
 Until the wise, the grave and pious, here. 
 Might pause awhile to shed an earnest tear. 
 
 ON A LADY. 
 
 If Vii-tue's dust may claim a sigh 
 
 Or one pathetic tear 
 From thouglitless manhood passing by 
 
 In Life's disturbed career, 
 76 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Oh, man! here pause a little while 
 
 And, with a soul sincere, 
 Kneel down beside this humble pile 
 
 And leave that tender tear. 
 
 ON MRS. MAGGIE WORTEN. 
 
 If over a Avoman's cold embers you seek 
 
 To linger a moment witli tears on your cheek; 
 
 A woman whose bosom on virtue relied, 
 
 Whose beauty and judgment remain'd till she died, 
 
 Whose conduct was blameless, Avhose nature was kind. 
 
 Whose movements were graceful, whose manners refined- 
 
 If over such embers your bosom would weep, 
 
 Come mourn with the poet, he knows where they sleep. 
 
 ON A LOVELY WOMAN. 
 
 If where a lovely woman sleeps. 
 
 You seek to pause a little while, 
 Draw near to where this myrtle creeps. 
 And Adcock's painful bosom weeps. 
 For she who, living, made him blest, 
 And dying left his heart distressed, 
 Sleeps on beneath this humble pile. 
 
 ON DR. JAMES F. CLEMENS. 
 
 What man should be, he understood. 
 And spent his life in doing good. 
 His mind was clear, his judgment true, 
 He losses had, and trials, ton; 
 But on, right on, o'er Life's rough tide, 
 77 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 He steered his bark, nor turned aside. 
 He had his cares, and some were sore; 
 But all that came he meekly bore. 
 Rest came at last, his dust lies here, 
 His soul's in Heav'n's eternal sphere. 
 
 ON MY MOTHER. 
 
 Oh! ye who yet have tears to shed 
 Around where sleep the pious dead, 
 Approach this stone and help me pay 
 Due rev'rence to my mother's clay. 
 
 ON MY FATHER. 
 
 Should yoii desire. Oh, passer-by! 
 
 Above an angel's dust to weep. 
 At this low stone you need not sigh, 
 
 Nor o'er this mound, your vigils keep. 
 But if above an honest man 
 
 You wish to waste an earnest tear. 
 Draw near and this low marble scan — 
 
 Just what you seek we buried here. 
 
 78 
 
EPIGRAMS 
 
 ON AN EPIGRAM. 
 
 All epigram, just like a cloud, 
 
 Warns us of something coming; 
 Verse, like the wind, bemoans aloud, 
 
 Forgets its low, sweet humming; 
 The crisis comes — a pause, a crash, 
 
 The fragments fly asunder — ■ 
 We feel the shock, and see the flash, 
 
 Before we hear the thunder. 
 
 ON THE MUSE. 
 
 The Muse, like April's little flower. 
 Drinks death in ev'ry icy breeze; 
 
 Locks up its petals in an hour 
 And starves a hive of mothv bees. 
 
 ON THE POET'S FAME. 
 
 The meteor, in night's realms of air. 
 Darts forth; Ave catch a vivid glare. 
 And turn at once its course to mark; 
 But lo! 'tis gone! the skies are dark. 
 Just then, somewhere, amid the sky, 
 A brighter flash attracts the eye. 
 We turn on its briglit orb to gaze 
 As darkness swallows up the blaze. 
 
 79 
 
HEART WHIkSPERS 
 
 'Tis thus with tlie poor poet's fame; 
 Its brilliance and its Hight tlie same. 
 We toil through Tiife's eventful day, 
 At night to cast a meteor's ray. 
 And when exhausted all our poAv'rs, 
 Some recent Hash eclipses ours, 
 And draws from us the public gaze. 
 To ^deld to the next meteor's blaze. 
 
 ON WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 When woman of her friendship speaks, 
 
 Man need not pause to wonder; 
 'Tis love and she some covert seeks 
 
 To hide her actions imder. 
 She'll talk of friendship, all the while 
 
 His heart's deep lesson reading; 
 And if he speaks of love she'll smile, 
 
 Tho' her poor heart is bleeding. 
 
 ON MEEKNESS. 
 
 There is a flower that may be grown 
 
 And nursed by ev'ry human hand. 
 'Tis partial to no clime or zone, 
 
 'Twill thrive alike in ev'ry land. 
 Its fragrance sets all hearts aglow, 
 
 Its presence cheers earth's saddest bow'r, 
 'Twill blossom where the thistles grow, 
 
 And Meekness is that little flow'r. 
 
 ON MAN AND THE BEE. 
 
 Man, like the bee, when once his house is made, 
 Brings all he finds to hoard within its shade. 
 He toils from sun to sun to fill his hive. 
 That he the long, cold winter may survive. 
 80 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 He heaps his treasures up and bars tlie door, 
 
 More pleased to have, than to enjoy his store. 
 
 Tlie more he gains, the less he has to spare 
 
 To help a friend or ease a neighbor's care. 
 
 Go where he will, lie seeks his home at night; 
 
 His God is wealth, and labor his delight. 
 
 But death comes on, nor can his treasuies save 
 
 His soul from flight, his embers from the grave. 
 
 Then, heirs spring up to revel in his store 
 
 ^^Hio never shared a wholesome meal before. 
 
 Yes, heirs whose soft, white hands were never know n 
 
 To guide the plow or carve the yielding stone. 
 
 Some men and bees o'er vast dominions roam, 
 
 And come at last to bring but little home. 
 
 These make few trips, and when they toil no more, 
 
 Then moths and sheriff's crowd the ungaard'd door. 
 
 ON THE POET'S MIND. 
 
 The poet's mind its fountain seals 
 When Fortune's hand caresses; 
 
 But like the grape its s^'ectness yields 
 In Torture's iron presses. 
 
 ON THE OBVIOUSNESS OF FEMALE TIMIDITY. 
 
 The humming bird on downy wing- 
 Comes with the welcome hours of spring. 
 Most fearful thing by nature made, 
 E'en of her own low hum afraid. 
 She starts, she stops, she wheels, she plays, 
 The sunlight sets her tints ablaze. 
 'Tis obvious from her gay attire 
 That wedlock is her chief desire. 
 81 
 
HEART WHISPER,"? 
 
 A gallant comes, charmed by her dress, 
 Her frolic, hum, and loveliness. 
 He comes, he wooes, exerts his power, 
 And hires her to his leafy bower. 
 
 Thus woman flutters round about 
 And throws her fond allurements out. 
 The wanton zephyrs lightly bear 
 Her downy dress and silky hair. 
 Most timorous of all timid things, 
 And yet the sweetest bird that sings. 
 She flies from man who comes her Avay 
 As if he were a beast of prey; 
 And, flying softly, whispers back, 
 "I go but you can find my track; 
 Despair not of the prize you sought; 
 I'm flying that I may be caught." 
 
 ON HAPPINESS. 
 
 Thou needst not search this mighty world around 
 To see the spot where happiness is found, 
 For thine is gathered in a nook more small 
 Than this great universe or earthly ball. 
 Go search thy breast and if 'tis absent there. 
 Thy happiness is absent everywhere. 
 
 ON FAIR WOMAN. 
 
 Fair woman is a blessing while 
 Her face is covered with a smile; 
 But is a terror to behold 
 The minute she begins to scold. 
 An angel and a tigress slie 
 Can in ten feeling seconds be. 
 82 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 ON HARSH WORDS. 
 
 Harsh words bring shame on many a hoary head; 
 We speak them once, they speak when we are dead. 
 To lend them out is such a pleasing task, 
 We claim no note and no per centum ask. 
 W3ien Fate pays back the debt and interest, too, 
 We scarce can think that half so much is due. 
 Such words make Ivove's most tender bosoms smart; 
 They never win, they always lose a heart. 
 Wliate'er we seek to gain by them is lost; 
 They bring the suit, but we defray the cost. 
 
 ON THE DANGEROUS BOOK. 
 
 In boyhood's morn my parents sought 
 
 From Ruin's thrall to win me^ 
 And little thought some things they taught 
 
 Were sowing tares within me. 
 Of my young heart great care they took, 
 
 Lest Payne should sow some seed in; 
 While woman's look — most dang'rous book- 
 
 They let me learn to read in. 
 
 ON GENIUS IN RUSTICITY. 
 
 When genius from Heaven's high portals is sent 
 
 To fashion some plowboy's low cabin, a shrine, 
 That hovel, though only a rude tenement, 
 
 For ages is worshiped as something divine. 
 No thicket so lonely, earth's bosom can give. 
 
 Where, hidden, that hovel might calmly repose; 
 And, nowhere, secluded, its tenant may live. 
 
 A genius has suitors wherever he goes. 
 83 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 ON THOUGHT. 
 
 Not always in the vaulted skies 
 The swift winged eagle seeks to rise. 
 No hush, no flower, no stream, no tree. 
 He tires of ether's boundless sea, 
 And seeks to sun his plumage where 
 The sounds of earth break on the air. 
 Thus wandei's thought, and thus retires 
 On humbler scenes to waste her fires. 
 
 ON FORBIDDEN TREES. 
 
 >Some scions of that woeful tree, 
 
 Fi'om our loved soil their branches shoot. 
 The tree that Eve once went to see; 
 
 And feasted on its baleful fruit. 
 And there are those in ev'ry land. 
 
 As thoughtless, still, and vain as she, 
 ^^^lo pluck with no reluctant hand 
 
 Destruction from some awful tree. 
 
 ON MAN. 
 
 See man, Avhen storms destroy his painted pile 
 And send him bleeding o'er the naked glen. 
 
 Like the poor ant, in but a little while, 
 
 Seek the same spot and rear his house again. 
 
 84 
 
HEART WHIMPERS 
 
 ON FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Friendship's a plant of fibre splendid, 
 
 Most beautiful when most attended. 
 
 It grows where zephyrs fan the lightest, 
 
 And blossoms when the skies are brightest. 
 
 Its flowers are true types of neatness, 
 
 Their fragrance fills our souls with sweetness, 
 
 Their tints are such as we discover 
 
 On the smooth cheeks of Beauty's lover. 
 
 But when Fate's clouds are seen to lower, 
 
 And Misery pours her baleful shower, 
 
 We find the plant we nursed and cherished 
 
 Has doffed its pretty leaves and perished. 
 
 ON THE POET'S IDOL. 
 
 The child of song, from year to year, 
 
 Fond suitor of unending fame. 
 Pours his wild notes in woman's ear 
 
 And wreathes in song her cherished name. 
 With her begins his tuneful breatli. 
 
 To her his sweetest lays are sung, 
 And e'en amid the gloom of death 
 
 Her hallowed name is on his tongue. 
 
 ON GENIUS' FLIGHT FROM OBSCURITY. 
 
 The lark to leave its lowly nest 
 
 The first occasion seizes, 
 And soaring pours from its soft breast 
 
 Soft music on the breezes. 
 'Tis thus with man of humble birth 
 
 When Fame's loud voice is swelling; 
 He leaves his hut, and all the earth 
 
 Becomes his future dwelling. 
 85 
 
HEART WHTSPERS 
 
 ON TWO BEGGARS. 
 
 The poorest vagrant on the street, 
 
 In this liard workl may leave his care. 
 And in the next rest his tired feet, 
 
 No beggar, but a millionaire. 
 Wliile he who hoards up millions here, 
 
 And, forced to leave them, dies perplexed. 
 Though worshiped in this little sphere 
 
 Turns out a beggar in the next. 
 
 ON NATURE'S PECULIARITIES. 
 
 Look not where matchless beauty glows 
 For wit's transcendent fire. 
 
 As nature grows the queenly rose 
 Upon an ugly brier. 
 
 ON YOUTHFUL DELUSIONS. 
 
 The dreams of youth, tho' bright and fair. 
 
 Are but delusions vain; 
 The harbingers of toil and care, 
 
 Misfortune, grief and pain. 
 And he who dreams o'er flow'ry meads 
 
 His future path may go, 
 Finds late in life that thorny weeds 
 
 There most luxuriant grow. 
 
 ON FALSE ESTEEM. 
 
 The friend who sings our praises loudest 
 And of our fame appears the proudest 
 In lovely June, when days are shiny. 
 And our poor hearts beseem most viny, 
 86 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Is dead like weeds tliat blossom early 
 When comes November hoarse and surly. 
 And that poor weed's first blossom slumbers 
 O'er him who praised our June-day numbers. 
 
 ON LOVE BOUGHT LOVE. 
 
 Love bought with love and nursed with care 
 Out-lives the gold dust in our hair; 
 Throw^s Rapture's sunlight o'er our way 
 And turns Life's midnight into day; 
 Sits musing by our lowly bier 
 And there lets fall her saddest tear; 
 Unseen bestows her farewell kiss 
 And waits to take our hand in bliss; 
 ^Vhile love that may be had for gold 
 Though dearly bought is cheaply sold. 
 
 ON TIMELY WARNINGS. 
 
 Oh! think not that his hopes will fail. 
 
 Whose cares are more than yours; 
 The bark that spreads the broadest sail 
 
 More of the breeze secures. 
 And ask not friendship of that man 
 
 Wlio seeks not such in thee, 
 For selfishness in friendship can 
 
 No shining jewel see. 
 
 ON TRUTH'S PERPETUITY. 
 
 False theories vanish like the dew 
 Where Reason lets her sunlight fall; 
 
 But Truth's are true, all ages thro', 
 L'Ufading flowers on nature's wall. 
 87 
 
HEART WHTSPERS 
 
 ON EXPENSIVE FRIENDvSHIPS. 
 
 Friendships that last a little while 
 Are those that we have purchased dear 
 
 And they tliat give lis cause to smile, 
 In time are apt to cost a tear. 
 
 ON THE RUSTIC'S MOURNER. 
 
 We boast of triumph, skill and power 
 Around the embers of the brave, 
 
 But Quietude's the only flower 
 
 That blossoms by the rustic's grave. 
 
 ON FALSE VIEWS OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 Think not that men who win renown 
 
 Have happiness complete. 
 The tallest steeple in the town 
 
 Feels ev'ry tempest beat. 
 Nor think that those who grov'ling go, 
 
 Have that great boon in sight; 
 For they who build their hovel low 
 
 Shut out the warm sunlight. 
 
 ON VAIN ALLUREMENTS. 
 
 Sometimes our sweetest songs are sung 
 
 To lure some one from duty, 
 And Homeliness, with silver tongue, 
 
 Is apt to win a beauty. 
 Hope sometimes glares a meteor wild 
 
 That Reason fails to bridle. 
 And Fame, like Fortune's favored child, 
 
 At times grows vain and idle. 
 88 
 
HEART WfTIf^PERS! 
 
 ON TARDINESS OF FAVORITES. 
 
 Tlie little bird that sweetest sings 
 
 Is spring's most welcome guest, 
 But idle while her music rings 
 
 She rears no early nest. 
 And he whose smiles all hearts elate. 
 
 In CourtsJiip's shining bowei-. 
 Ne'er sings his song, selects his mate 
 
 x\nd weds her in an hour. 
 
 ON FREQUENT OCCURRENCES. 
 
 The sweetest bird that charms the ear of morn 
 
 To solitude may sing her life away; 
 The fairest flower grows nearest to the thorn; 
 
 The warmest lips some cruel things may say; 
 One idle deed may spoil a life of bliss; 
 
 Hope's pretty flower may perish in its bud; 
 Destruction may lie hidden in a kiss; 
 
 One little truth may cost an ounce of blood. 
 
 ON LOGICAL HINTS. 
 
 Stamped on the pallid brow of Age 
 Look not for childhood's roses; 
 
 Nor search for pathos in his page 
 AVbose life no love discloses. 
 
 ON UNEXPECTED HAPPENINGS. 
 
 Sometimes, in humble huts, great hearts are born. 
 Great souls are oft enclosed in homely clay; 
 
 And dreams that came in childhood's early morn 
 Sometimes come true in manhood's closing day. 
 89 
 
HEART WHIf^PER."^ 
 
 ON LOVE. 
 
 Love lightens iip earth's darkest bower, 
 LTnnerves the arm of strife; 
 
 And man has found no sweeter flower 
 Beside the road of life. 
 
 90 
 
AMOROUS MELODIES 
 
 HEAVE ONE SWEET SIGH FOR ME. 
 
 High on the surge the vessel rides, 
 
 The gale is fresh and free, 
 Ere in yon wave the red sun hides 
 
 I shall be lost to thee. 
 Ere long green Scotia's vales and streams, 
 
 Her hills and mountains high, 
 Though seen before in boyhood's dreams. 
 
 Shall greet my wand'ring eye. 
 When far away on ocean's breast 
 
 My future path may be, 
 Will she, whose lip I lately pressed 
 
 Heave one sweet sigh for me? 
 
 Away, away, with wide spread wings 
 
 We skim the frothy swell, 
 And thou, best loved of earthly things, 
 
 A long, long, long farewell. 
 Should yonder surge, with crest of white. 
 
 Become the wand'rer's grave 
 Ere burning Sol to-morrow night 
 
 Shall stoop to paint the wave. 
 Should this of life but be my part. 
 
 Should this my portion be, 
 Will she, with whom I left my heart, 
 
 Shed one bright tear for me? 
 
 Should Fortune smile and naught go wrong, 
 And this proud bark convey 
 
 M!e to the shore I've loved so long- 
 Endeared by Burns' lay; 
 
 As on 1 move with measured tread 
 To view the flow'rs that bloom 
 91 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Above proud Scotia's mighty dead 
 Around lier minstrel's tomb, 
 
 Will she whose ever beaming smile 
 I have been pleased to see, 
 
 She who enslaves my heart the while, 
 Heave one sweet sigh for me? 
 
 WHERE SOME FOND HEART REPOSES. 
 
 Go view tlie spot wliere sank to rest 
 
 All that may sleep of Beauty, 
 And place upon her mould'ring breast 
 
 Wiliat may beseem thy duty. 
 Go plant the laurel o'er the brave, 
 
 Ere ev'ning's twilight closes; 
 But keep your myrtle for the grave 
 
 Wliere some fond heart reposes. 
 
 Go pause awliile with soul sincere 
 
 Where Virtue's labors ended. 
 And view the moss-grown hillock near 
 
 Where Misery's task suspended. 
 Go tear the tall, rank grass away 
 
 That o'er some genius closes; 
 But keep your tears to bathe the clay 
 
 Where some fond heart reposes. 
 
 I THINK OF THEE. 
 
 I think of thee 
 ^\^len fair-faced morn breaks into birth, 
 
 And those wild warblers of the tree 
 Pour forth their lays of love and mirth, 
 I think of thee. 
 
 92 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I think of thee 
 When darkness drops her dusky veil, 
 
 And hurries home the lab'ring bee 
 From flow'ry grove and winding dale, 
 
 I think of thee. 
 
 I think of thee 
 When sad, sweet thoughts glide on amain, 
 
 Like ripples o'er the swelling sea, 
 As slumber steals upon my brain, 
 
 I think of thee. 
 
 WE MET. 
 
 We met; I gazed into her eyes, 
 
 That same soul-soothing glance was there. 
 Remembrance smiled o'er days gone by 
 
 And Fancy bridged the gulf of Oare. 
 Long years of pain and toil had sped, 
 
 Since by her side I made my seat, 
 I thought that boyhood's hopes were dead. 
 
 And passion's fire had lost its heat. 
 
 We met; the festive circle gazed 
 
 As if to read our inmost souls; 
 Nor word was spoke, nor hand was raised, 
 
 Nor smile to fan affection's coals. 
 She paused; I strove to look austere 
 
 Despite my bosom's cruel smart; 
 But thought the gaping crowd would hear 
 
 The wild pulsations of my heart. 
 
 COME LET ME GAZE. 
 
 Gome let me gaze into thine eyes. 
 For in their depths of blue, 
 
 I see thy fond affections rise 
 In sparkling gleams anew. 
 93 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Long years have flown since by my side 
 
 Mine eyes beheld thee last; 
 Bright hopes have risen, bloomed and died 
 
 And slumber with the past. 
 
 Long years have flown and I am changed, 
 
 My youthful years are o'er; 
 Tlie flow'ry lawns where once we ranged 
 
 May know our feet no more. 
 
 Yes, changed, alas! my boyish flame 
 Was smould'ring faint and low; 
 
 But finding thy fond heart the same 
 Renews its ardent glow. 
 
 THE KISS. 
 
 One kiss, sweet lady, ere we part, 
 
 I ask no more of thee; 
 I claim no portion in thy heart, 
 
 No burning tears for me. 
 
 One parting kiss, then on my way 
 I'll urge these weary feet. 
 
 See, on the beach of yonder bay 
 The boiling billows beat. 
 
 Go dry that tear and check thy sigh- 
 Thej' spoil my moment's bliss — 
 
 I bade not tears bedim thine eye; 
 I claimed one harmless kiss. 
 
 SLEEP ON. 
 
 Sleep on sweet maiden in thy grave, 
 The cold turf thrown above thee. 
 
 None know what pain thy exit gave. 
 None know who yet may love thee, 
 94 
 
HEART WHOPPERS 
 
 Or who has wept beside thj' mound 
 When no one else was weejjing, 
 
 Or who has kept liis vigils 'round 
 When no one else was keeping. 
 
 Sleep on my sweet and gentle one, 
 
 On thy low couch before me, 
 My boyish heart was all undone 
 
 When Obit's blight came o'er thee. 
 They knew not when they placed thee here 
 
 How his young heart was swelling, 
 Who then without one tender tear 
 
 Surveyed thy narrow dwelling. 
 
 WHEN LAST WE MET. 
 
 When last we met I thought her eyes 
 
 Would look my bosom thro', 
 Could she have thought my tears would rise 
 
 Or passion wake anew? 
 
 I met her glance unmoved and mild, 
 
 With neither smile nor frown. 
 And tho' my boyish heart went wild 
 
 I kept its pulses down. 
 
 1 had not erred, and cared no more 
 
 To fan the smothered flame; 
 She gazed till pale confusion o'er 
 
 Her lovely features came. 
 
 On, on I talked; my simple themes, 
 The lawn, the grove, the bower; 
 
 And Fancy hung a wreath of dreams 
 About life's closing hour. 
 
 95 
 
HEART WHIHPEK^ 
 
 SHE WEPT. 
 
 Slie wept; great tears of sadness came 
 
 Into her brilliant eyes, 
 I felt my own wild heart grow tame, 
 
 My own emotions rise. 
 Of youthful years remembrance brought 
 
 Me niai'y a smile and tear. 
 Ere Reason had deep lessons taught 
 
 To wayward Fancy's ear. 
 
 She wept; across her dimpled cheek 
 
 The glistening tear drops stole, 
 She looked as if her heart would speak 
 
 The sadness of her soul. 
 I kissed away each tender tear, 
 
 Nor deemed its flow unmeet, 
 And breathed wild words into her ear 
 
 I need not here repeat. 
 
 SHE SAID SHE KNEW OF ONE. 
 
 She said she knew of one 
 
 Whose heart is full of friendship's fire 
 For him — Misfortune's lonely son — 
 
 Who wakes this simple lyre. 
 
 She said she knew of one 
 
 Who'd shed one sympathetic tear 
 If Adeock's sands of life were run. 
 
 And ended his career. 
 
 She said she knew of one 
 
 Who'd heap the turf above his head, 
 And strew sweet flowers at set of sun 
 
 Upon his humble bed. 
 
HEART WHIMPERS 
 
 I LOVE THEE YET. 
 
 I love thee yet, 
 Thou first ideal of my heart; 
 
 And by my soul I'll ne'er forget 
 The cruel cause that bade us part. 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 Our parting moment left my brain 
 
 With many a midnight thought beset: 
 But why at treach'rous Fate complain? 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 This brings to mind our parting hour; 
 
 In Ocean's lap, day's orb liad set, 
 With Twilight's tears on ev'ry flower. 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 
 I love tliee yet. 
 With one sweet kiss I left thy side, 
 
 Nor since that parting have we met. 
 Tho' all the world should taunt and chide, 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 My boyish heart still clings to thee; 
 
 With scalding tears mine eyes are wet; 
 Oh, why should Fate so cruel be? 
 
 I love thee yet. 
 
 IT MAY BE. 
 
 It may be that in future years 
 
 I shall not love thee so; 
 It may be that these burning tears 
 
 In time shall cease to flow. 
 97 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 It may be tliat tlie storms of Time 
 Shall blanch thy bonny brow; 
 
 And passion's fire be less sublime 
 Than I conceive it now. 
 
 FARE THEE WELL. 
 
 fare thee well! since we must part, 
 
 And should we chance to meet no more, 
 Thy name shall live within my heart 
 
 'Till life's unhallowed dream is o'er. 
 Here had I thought to make my home, 
 
 Here, had I thought to rest my clay; 
 But duty calls me forth to roam 
 
 And, with reluctance, I obey. 
 
 fare tliee well! since I must go. 
 And part forever from thy side, 
 
 1 would I could remain, but. Oh! 
 Ungenerous P'ate that bliss denied. 
 
 And though I go j-^ou need not grieve. 
 Though you should often think of me; 
 
 Nor need you sigh because I leave 
 
 This verse and my poor heart with thee. 
 
 GO KLSS THE SMILE. 
 
 Go kiss the smile from Beauty's lip, 
 The bright tear from her eye; 
 
 Then tell me 'tis no task to sip 
 Affection's fountain dry. 
 
 Go smooth bright Beauty's shining hair. 
 
 Gaze in her thrilling eyes; 
 Then tell me if no charm is there 
 
 To bid affections rise. 
 98 
 
HEART WHIMPERS 
 
 Cio let her melting accents steal 
 
 Into thy secret soul; 
 Then tell me if thou canst not feel 
 
 Affection's surges roll. 
 
 THINK OF ME. 
 
 O think of me! 
 When I'm far distant from thine eye 
 
 And some fond suitor kneels to thee, 
 Tho' fair his face and soft his sigh, 
 
 let me not forgotten be! 
 Tho' I'm not there to catch thy smile, 
 
 Don't think that I'm less fond than he; 
 But smile on him a little while, 
 
 Then think of me. 
 
 think of me! 
 'WTien day's bright orb hies down the Avest 
 
 To bathe his red face in the sea, 
 While pleasure fills thy gentle breast 
 
 And Fancy smiles o'er what may be. 
 Should some fair face, when I have gone. 
 
 Bestow love's sweetest smiles to thee, 
 As the soft hours steal on and on, 
 
 O think of me! 
 
 COME, TELL ME. 
 
 Come, tell me if thy heart has kept, 
 Still kept our parting vow, 
 
 I shall not ask if thou hast wept, 
 I've seen thy clouded brow. 
 L.trfO. ' 99 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Yes, tell ine if thy heaving breast 
 
 Yet feels my bosom dear; 
 But why appears thy soul distress'd? 
 
 What starts that burning tear? 
 
 If in thy mind of vanished years 
 One pleasing thought remains, 
 
 Ck)me, let me dry thy pensive tears, 
 And mend love's broken chains. 
 
 When late I met thy searching eyes 
 
 They struck into my soul; 
 'Tis hard to rend love's early ties 
 
 And send them to their goal. 
 
 Come, tell me if thy heart has kept, 
 Aye, kept our parting vow. 
 
 Between us once obstructions crept. 
 But Time averts them now. 
 
 'TIS ALL IN VAIN 
 
 'Tis all in vain! Then why wilt thou 
 Thus wake the flames we once subdued? 
 
 For that bright hour has vanished now 
 When I might woo as once I wooed. 
 
 Those times are flown, and visions bright 
 That filled my heart o'erfull of joy 
 
 Have vanished, too, and I'm, to-night, 
 In manhood's prime, a thoughtless boy. 
 
 100 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 WELL, THOU ARE CHANGED. 
 
 Well, thou are changed, but ask me not 
 
 If thou art still adored by me; 
 Earth has not one lone nook or spot 
 
 That might not be my home with thee. 
 Where would I stray, where would I roam. 
 What land or clime would seem like home, 
 What spot of earth afford delight, 
 If thovi wert banished from my sigiit? 
 
 Yes, thou art changed; I had not thought 
 
 To find thy features changed so soon. 
 Thy spring of life in passing brought 
 
 Thy heart the warm bright days of June. 
 But like the rose in summer's bower 
 Thy lips are yet no faded flower; 
 Nor have thy cheeks become too pale 
 To blush at love's delightful tale. 
 
 thou are changed! These hapless years 
 Have filched thy playfulness from thee; 
 
 Not now so oft thy smile appears, 
 
 But not less dear that smile to me. 
 These cruel years have served to crush 
 From thy soft cheek life's morning blush, 
 And made thine eye's wild glances tame. 
 But they enslave my lieart tlie same. 
 
 Yes, thou are changed; but in tliy heart 
 I fain would hold my wonted share, 
 
 And though tliy beauties all depart 
 T seek to lose no portion there. 
 
 "WHiile I perceive slight change in thee 
 
 1 feel that time has worsted me; 
 But still all beautiful thou art, 
 For I behold thee through my heart. 
 
 101 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 I'M ALL ALONE. 
 
 I'm all alone! 
 On Earth's broad breast or ocean's brine, 
 
 From pole to pole or zone to zone. 
 There's no warm heart that feels for mine. 
 
 I'm all alone. 
 
 I'm all alone! 
 When darkness hides the land and sea. 
 
 And Silence sits on Labor's throne, 
 No blazing hearth is lit for me. 
 
 I'm all alone. 
 
 I'm all alone! 
 In Pleasure's hall when Beauty's smile 
 
 Like Phoebus' parting rays are thrown, 
 I meet her glance a little while. 
 
 Then I'm alone. 
 
 I'm all alone! 
 A thoughtless wanderer to the tomb, 
 
 I steal along unloved, unknown; 
 Sad solitude is now my doom. 
 
 I'm all alone. 
 
 I'm all alone! 
 For me through life's eventful scene 
 
 Hope, peace and joy are doubtless flown; 
 And soon beneath tlie herbage green 
 
 I'll sleep alone. 
 
 I'm all alone! 
 When I have spent my parting sigh, 
 
 Mark on my monumental stone; 
 "Here Adcock's mould'ring embers lie 
 
 All, all alone." 
 
 102 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 WE MET TO PART. 
 
 We met to jiart; oli! how forlorn 
 
 Are loving hearts when forced to sever! 
 
 And Fortune smiling half in scorn 
 Had thrown our hopes aside forever. 
 
 Her bright tears came, I turned my face, 
 
 how could I endure it longer! 
 But ling'ring in her fond embrace 
 
 1 thought I felt my heart beat stronger. 
 
 We met to part; and silence came; 
 
 Few words from either lips were spoken. 
 In plaintive sighs she breathed my name 
 
 As if her tender heart were broken. 
 That day was bright; from out the trees 
 
 The minstrels viewed our warm caresses; 
 And wildly to the scented breeze 
 
 Play'd her vast wealth of shining tresses. 
 
 We met to part; the round, red sun 
 
 From evening's golden gate was shining; 
 Then naught in nature seemed undone. 
 
 And naught on earth was then repining. 
 I kissed the bright tear from her eye 
 
 While my young heart was wildly beating, 
 And wept as sped its moments by 
 
 To find life's little day so fleeting. 
 
 We met to part; far down the bay 
 
 We view'd the wliite capp'd siu'ges swelling, 
 Where anchored still the proud bark lay 
 
 To bear me from her cozy dwelling. 
 I pressed her lips and bade farewell 
 
 To all that life held dear forever; 
 Sad tears are shed, fond bosoms swell. 
 
 When loving hearts are forced to sever. 
 
 103 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 IF THOU WERT MINE. 
 
 If thou wert mine and we were young, 
 
 'TwouM drive away my sadness; 
 My sweetest strains sliould then be sung 
 
 To fill thy soul with gladness. 
 Along the slopes we'd pause again 
 
 WTiere rivulets were straying, 
 And stroll adown the flow'ry glen 
 
 To watch the lambkins playing. 
 
 If thou wert mine I'd not repine, 
 
 gen'rous hearted woman! 
 Thy face and form seem so divine 
 
 1 scarce can think thee human. 
 And hadst thou not Avith willing ear 
 
 To other tongues have listened, 
 On thy smooth cheek that burning tear 
 To-day need not have glistened. 
 
 I SAW THY FACE. 
 
 I saw thy face; 'twas lovely still; 
 
 The mighty past rose up before me; 
 Mine eyes with tears began to fill 
 
 And feelings fond at once came o'er me. 
 
 I saw thy face; the same sad tear 
 
 Was in thine eye wJien last I met thee. 
 
 I little thought thou wert so dear, 
 
 I'd told my heart it should forget thee. 
 
 I saw thy face; my reason fled 
 
 And thou wert soon as dear as ever; 
 
 Adieu thou path I'd thought to tread, 
 My foolish heart is gone forever. 
 
 104 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 I LOVE THEE STILL. 
 
 I love thee still; deep in my heart 
 
 Aft'ection burns the same; 
 I feel my sluggish pulses star I, 
 
 At mention of thy name. 
 He need not think by ceaseless din 
 
 To turn my heart from thee; 
 'Tis all in vain for thou hast been 
 
 Too long adored by me. 
 
 I love thee still; it matters not 
 
 ^Vliat mighty Time has done, 
 Our parting hour is not forgot, 
 
 My sweet, my lovely one. 
 And, by my soul! the sparkling tear 
 
 That o'er thy bright eye came 
 Was to my bleeding heart more dear 
 
 Than fortune, wealth or fame. 
 
 I love thee still; 'tis sweet to gaze 
 
 Upon thy smiling brow. 
 I nursed the flame in other days 
 
 Tliat burns so brightly now. 
 His taunts and jeers but made me feel 
 
 That futile was his aim; 
 For e'en had they been swords of steel 
 
 Their fate had been the same. 
 
 I love thee still; each passing hour 
 
 Endears thee to my heart, 
 And I have hoped no earthly power 
 
 Might tear our souls apart. 
 Vain was his aim who thought to quell 
 
 These passions of my soul; 
 Yes, truly vain; he had as well 
 
 Bade ocean not to roll. 
 
 105 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 SINCE THEN. 
 
 Since last we met the lengthy hours 
 On tardy Avings have passed away; 
 
 The bird that then sang in the bow'rs, 
 Long since has hushed its loving lay. 
 
 The sun that then was sinking low, 
 Since then has often kissed the sea; 
 
 And he who breathed, "I hate to go," 
 In smiles and tears has thought of thee. 
 
 Since then he has beheld thee oft 
 
 In all thy charms, thy mirth and glee. 
 
 At midnight's hour, when slumbers soft 
 Had lulled the heart that beats for thee. 
 
 A FEW MORE YEARS. 
 
 A few more years shall steal away 
 
 On Time's unwearied wing. 
 And on j^on winding hill decay 
 
 A few more blooms of spring. 
 Those few brief years may seam my brow, 
 
 But serve to perfect thine. 
 Then I can by the sacred vow 
 
 Clasp thy fond heart to mine. 
 
 A few more smiles, a few more tears, 
 
 A few more parting hours, 
 Then she whose brow so soft appears 
 
 Shall wear the bridal flowers. 
 A few s.hort years, sweet girl, and thou 
 
 Shalt childhood's days resign, 
 Then I can by the sacred vow 
 
 Clasp thy fond heart to mine. 
 
 106 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 IT SEEMS AN AGE. 
 
 It seems an age since last beside 
 Thy blazing hearth we met, 
 
 And cruel Time his skill has tried 
 To teach me to forget. 
 
 But all his efforts are in vain 
 
 For absence teaches me 
 That thou art in my heart and brain, 
 
 And I'm in love vi'ith thee. 
 
 I smile to think that one fond breast 
 Has deigned to feel for mine; 
 
 If I a spotless one possessed 
 'Twere still unworthy thine. 
 
 The moments flew on Pleasure's wing, 
 
 My bosom rose with pride 
 Wiien last I struck the trembliiig string 
 
 With Alice by my side. 
 
 Love's sweetest smile was on thy face 
 
 All, all that afternoon; 
 From out the viol's soft embrace 
 
 It helped me force the tune. 
 
 On went the dance that ev'ning tide. 
 
 Bright eyes upon me shone, 
 Warm hearts were there and by my side 
 
 The warmest I had known. 
 
 SWEET GIRL. 
 
 Sweet girl, if I had aught more dear 
 Than my own heart to me, 
 
 Without a sigh, without a tear, 
 I'd offer it to thee. 
 
 But since I've not, O take my heart! 
 
 I can not give thee more; 
 I would I could its warmth impart. 
 
 It loves thee to its core. 
 107 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 SUNDAY EVENING. 
 
 I've seen thee not; the shades of eve 
 
 Slow steal along the western hills, 
 And by my hearth I'm left to grieve 
 
 At dull misfortune's countless ills. 
 Had I but seen thy sparkling eye, 
 
 One moment viewed thy features o'er. 
 This heart to-night had beat as high 
 
 As Fancy's wing e'er dared to soar. 
 
 I've seen thee not; the gloom steals on 
 
 O'er peaceful Nature's heaving breast; 
 The sun's last ling'ring ray is gone. 
 
 And darkness wraps the distant west. 
 Perchance that bosom warm and young 
 
 Is filled with dark forebodings now. 
 And I have these sad numbers sung 
 
 While fever scorched my pallid brow. 
 
 AT PARTING SHE GAVE IT. 
 
 At i)arting she gave it and whispered, "Goodby," 
 In accents that rendered my wild bosom tame; 
 
 And the tear then stealing in her deep, dark eye 
 Was dearer to my heart than fortune or fame. 
 
 Her features seemed fairer than ever before, 
 I played with the ringlets that lay on her brow, 
 
 And felt that I nourished in my heart's deep core, 
 A passion that lurks in that bosom till now. 
 
 One moment I lingered and felt in ray soul 
 The rapture that poets liave painted so long; 
 
 Nor wondered why Beauty's bright eyes could enroll 
 The feelings of bosoms that warble in song. 
 
 108 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 The soul pining numbers that sad Byron sung 
 At moments when passion was burning so high; 
 
 Even those all glowing from Burns' smooth tongue 
 Were lifeless to the tear then seen in her eye. 
 
 WHEN THIS SAD HEART. 
 
 WJien this sad heart and burning brow 
 Are laid in earth's untroubled breast, 
 O tell me not, sweet girl, that thou 
 
 Wilt pause to view their place of rest. 
 Or that thou wilt one warm tear shed 
 Around my cold and silent bed; 
 Or stoop to plant one tender flower 
 Beside my grave at ev'ning's hour. 
 
 Thou wilt forget all those briglit hours 
 I spent with thee when life was fair; 
 And e'en forget the countless flow'rs 
 
 I've twisted in thy waving hair. 
 Perchance thou wilt that kiss forget 
 When last by thy warm hearth we met; 
 And all my words, my smiles and tears 
 Be lost to thee in future years. 
 
 I LOVE THEE. 
 
 I love thee and bemoan the hour 
 
 That brings our parting nearer. 
 To my own heart, gentle flower! 
 
 I feel there's nothing dearer. 
 Long years have flown since that bright eva 
 
 I taught that heart to woo thee; 
 Long years; nor have I cause to grieve 
 
 Of that fond gift unto thee. 
 109 
 
HEART WHISFER^ 
 
 I love thee, and if by thy side 
 
 My years be few or many, 
 Think not that I sliall e'er divide 
 
 My heart and love with any. 
 Frown not if other eyes should steal 
 
 Some wild poetic raptures; 
 Thy heart, and thine alone, I feel, 
 
 My whole devotion captures. 
 
 YOUNG AFFECTION. 
 
 When young Aft'ection o'er the heart 
 
 Asserts her pleasing sway. 
 No tongue can half our joys impart. 
 
 Or lialf our hopes portray. 
 
 How bright each coming prospect seems 
 How smooth life's future track; 
 
 We pass no eye that brightly gleams 
 But sends its glances back. 
 
 We catch no word, no loving word. 
 
 From tender lips and fair. 
 That might not at some time be heard 
 
 Commingled with our prayer. 
 
 We catch no smile but strikes the string 
 
 That vibrates in the heart; 
 And prompted by that matchless thing 
 
 Our warmest feelings start. 
 
 No throbbing hand is prest in ours 
 But plays its destined part; 
 
 No stolen walk amid the bow'rs 
 But captivates a heart. 
 
 To ours no melting lips are i)rest. 
 
 No heaving bosom meets, 
 That wakes not in our yielding breast 
 
 The sweetest of all sweets. 
 110 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Each loving smile that we descry 
 
 Is answered by our own; 
 We'd wager worlds to prove her sigh 
 
 Was meant for us alone. 
 
 Her blushes, smiles and timid tears 
 
 Call passion into birth; 
 We gaze entranced and she appears 
 
 The fairest thing of earth. 
 
 SWEET LIPS. 
 
 Sweet lips— but why shouM I consign 
 
 My busy heart to Beauty's care? 
 For manhood's sober years are mine 
 
 And I have paid my homage there. 
 Shall all my nobler years depart 
 
 With slow and stately step erewhile, 
 And age appear to find my heart 
 
 Still, still in love with woman's smile? 
 
 Sweet lips— but mine shall press them not; 
 
 Soft eyes, but yet I claim no tear, 
 And though I ne'er may share her lot 
 
 Without her love I'm lonely here. 
 In other years could I have known 
 
 Her gentle heart one moment mine, . 
 Not all the gold of ev'ry zone 
 
 Had made my heart that gem resign. 
 
 Sweet lips, but they were made to press 
 
 Warm kisses on another lace; 
 And she would spurn my fond caress. 
 
 Disdain to fall in my embrace. 
 But why go on and waste my hours 
 
 With none to soothe, with none to bless ? 
 For Beauty's bird from Beauty's bow'rs. 
 
 With songs may charm a wiUlernass. 
 Ill 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Sweet lips, but not for mine to press; 
 
 Sweet smiles, but yet I claim not one. 
 I sigh too long and sigh too much 
 
 W-^ien once my homage is begun. 
 I know not if she loves nie yet 
 
 Or if she holds my bosom dear; ■ 
 I only know when last we met 
 
 Her thrilling accents filled mine ear. 
 
 FAIR WOMAN. 
 
 My morning was lovely, no storm cloud arose. 
 Life's future horizon to darken with care; 
 
 My pleasures were many and few were my woes 
 While sporting with Beauty's soft ringlets of hair. 
 
 My feelings were bouyant, those moments Avere mine. 
 With rapture unceasing I winged them away; 
 
 Her numbers were sweeter than Little's smooth line, 
 Her whispers were softer than Pliilorael's lay. 
 
 In Beauty's bright tresses I little thought then 
 That passion had hidden so subtle a snare; 
 
 Those ringlets were charming, I viewed them again, 
 My heart in a moment entangled was there. 
 
 On Beauty's soft bosom my head has reposed 
 Since first in her bower I sported along; 
 
 And nothing till being's last moments have clos'd 
 Shall free me from fetters so tender, yet strong. 
 
 All trembling with coyness I knelt at her shrine 
 Till fondness had driven my scruples away. 
 
 woman! fair woman! my heart is all thine. 
 Thou solace, thou comfort in life's stormy day. 
 
 Let minstrels who revel in bloodshed and tears 
 Go laud up their heroes, and bury them, too; 
 
 1 wooed her, I loved her, in manhood's first years. 
 To woman my numbers are due, ever due. 
 
 112 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I SEE THEE YET. 
 
 I see thee yet, aye, see the yet. 
 
 In mem'ry's starlit sky; 
 Tho' years have passed since last we met 
 
 I toss them idly by. 
 On thy soft lip, on thy smooth cheek, 
 
 The smiles begin to start. 
 And words are frail, too frail to speak 
 
 Out all my melting heart. 
 
 I see thee yet, aye, see thee yet. 
 
 As when we bade farewell; 
 To thy soft eyes in tear drops wet 
 
 My heart in bondage fell. 
 The fairest face that meets me now 
 
 Brings back unto my mind 
 Some tender tear, some clouded brow. 
 
 That I have left behind. 
 
 I see thee yet, aye, see thee yet, 
 
 Through all the cruel years 
 That have flown o'er us since we met 
 
 And wept those parting tears. 
 When shall I o'er, if e'er at all. 
 
 Forget your lovely face; 
 When shall Hope's air built fabric fall 
 
 And tremble at its base. 
 
 I see thee yet, aye, see thee yet. 
 
 So graceful and so fair 
 That my worn heart may half forget 
 
 Its long borne weight of care. 
 Yes, half forget to know there be 
 
 Fond hearts that felt for mine; 
 And see by mem'ry's starlight, see 
 
 Aught human so divine. 
 
 113 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 THE SMILE. 
 
 That smile, dear maid, inspires me here 
 
 To string the poet's lyre; 
 'Tis in a smile, a sigh, a tear. 
 
 We catch affection's fire. 
 
 Oh! 'twas a gleam of tenderness 
 Caught from thy earnest soul 
 
 That o'er thy cheek's deep loveliness 
 Like parting sunbeams stole. 
 
 Yes, 'twas a ripple from the spring 
 
 Of maiden purity 
 That struck my heart's electric string 
 
 All, all unconsciously. 
 
 CANST THOU NOT GAZE. 
 
 Canst thou not gaze into my face 
 And feel thy heart at rest? 
 
 tell me why thou canst not chase 
 Mine image from thy breast! 
 
 What calls the blush into thy cheek. 
 
 The tear into thine ej'e, 
 And bi'ings a shudder when you speak 
 
 Of happy years gone by? 
 
 1 ask no sigh, I ask no tear. 
 No heart- felt sadness now, 
 
 I've felt Time's plowshare year by year 
 
 Intrenching on my brow. 
 And thine is pale. Oh! paler far 
 
 Than in those years gone by, 
 When Passion lit her morning star 
 
 To light up manhood's sky. 
 
 114 
 
HEART WHIi^PERS 
 
 COME THOU WITH EYES. 
 
 Come tliou with eyes as black as night, 
 While raven ringlets kiss thy brow, 
 
 No fairer form e'er met my sight. 
 No fonder heart e'er kept my vow. 
 
 I'll heave not sighs, I'll waste not tears, 
 While thy fond bosom beats for mine; 
 
 I'm old at heart but young in years; 
 
 I've plucked the grapes from passion's vine. 
 
 To clasp thy hand in mine renews 
 My bosom's old accustomed beat; 
 
 While Fancy in my pathway strews 
 The same bright flowers I used to meet. 
 
 O thou! with eyes as black as night, 
 And raven ringlets on thy brow. 
 
 Thy love made manhood's morning bright, 
 And forms my greatest blessing now. 
 
 MY SWAY IS O'ER. 
 
 My swaj^ is o'er, mj' time is past, 
 
 I ne'er may make thee mine; 
 But I shall love thee to the last 
 
 And o'er my loss repine. 
 One smile on thy soft lip conveys 
 
 Me much of happiness; 
 And I, e'en in these latter days, 
 
 Would fain thy heart possess. 
 
 My sway is o'er, and I am left 
 To rue my wild career; 
 
 My heart of ev'ry hope bereft 
 Gropes on in darkness here. 
 115 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 I knew not when that heart to thee 
 
 Played truant years ago 
 That in the long ones then to be 
 
 Thy face would haunt me so. 
 
 My sway is o'er, in thy firm heart 
 
 No love for me remains, 
 And I but played an idler's part 
 
 To forge these galling chains. 
 O could those by-gone happy hours 
 
 Again return to me 
 I'd whisper less of birds and flowers 
 
 And more of love to thee! 
 
 My sway is o'er; I nursed too long 
 
 That flame within my breast; 
 Tlie bird that sings the sweetest song 
 
 Is slow to rear her nest. 
 Oh! 'tis an easy thing to let 
 
 The golden present fly; 
 But not so easy to forget 
 
 The light in Beauty's ej'e. 
 
 SMILE NOT SO SWEETLY. 
 
 O smile not so sweetly unless you desire 
 To capture my bosom and set it on fire! 
 
 look not so lovely, so charming and neat 
 
 Unless you would have me to kneel at your feet! 
 
 My heart is impassioned with Beauty's sweet smile. 
 She charms me, she cheers me, I've loved her awhile; 
 
 And ne'er till my bosom's last pulses are o'er 
 Shall I be persuaded to love her no more. 
 
 O speak not so gently, sweet lady, unless 
 
 Thy fond heart is willing my sad one to bless! 
 
 'Tis easy to love thee since thou art so fair; 
 So pleasing thy features, so glossy thy hair. 
 116 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 FARE THEE WELL. 
 
 fare thee well! if in thy heart 
 
 The stings of hopeless love repair. 
 Thou know'st who made that bosom smart, 
 
 And seated that dull sadness there. 
 The time has been when he who now 
 
 Has wasted all that nature gave, 
 Had placed love's wreath upon your brow, 
 
 Or gone to fill a martyr's grave. 
 
 O fare thee well! if in thine eye 
 
 Now steals the trembling tear of woe, 
 'Twas thine own words in days gone by 
 
 That caused those burning tears to flow. 
 Those thoughtless words in time will cost 
 
 Thee thy own bliss and banish mine; 
 Worlds were not worth what I have lost. 
 
 Or crowns what now I must resign. 
 
 O fare thee well! if peace and joy 
 
 In future years are thine no more, 
 'Twas thou alone that didst destroy 
 
 The happiness thou hadst in store. 
 Ah! hapless maid! had passion slept. 
 
 Thy heart and mine had been more free; 
 Now all the tears by Beauty wept 
 
 Would fail to chain my heart to thee. 
 
 I BADE FAREWELL. 
 
 I bade farewell, but all in A'ain; 
 
 It shall not be, it must not be; 
 That word would tear the heart in twain 
 
 Which long ago I gave to thee. 
 
 117 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Yea, by my soul it would destroy 
 Each future thought in Care's abyss; 
 
 'Twould exile love, hope, peace and joy, 
 And sink the fountain of my bliss. 
 
 I bade farewell, nor asked my heart 
 
 If Love had built his temple there; 
 I little thought to feel the smart 
 
 That now my soul is doomed to bear. 
 I knew not then thou wert so dear, 
 
 I knew not then T loved thee so, 
 I had not thought to shed a tear 
 
 O'er thee or all the world below. 
 
 I bade farewell and turned from thee 
 
 With liopes to see thy face no more, 
 And thouglit my future home would be 
 
 Far on the bright Pacific's shore. 
 The tear that filled thy tender eye 
 
 Was far more bright than morning dew 
 But heedless then I passed thee by, 
 
 Tho' knowing well thy heart was true. 
 
 SINCE YOU HAVE LEFT ME. 
 
 since you have met me witli feelings of kindness 
 T promise to restore my heart unto you! 
 
 As love has been branded by poets with blindness 
 And the charge tho' severe is doubtless as true. 
 
 1 love you as dearly as e'er in the past time, 
 As fondly, sincerely as ever of yore; 
 
 You kiss me again, I remember the last time, 
 And the sunshine that fell thy features all o'er. 
 
 Come lean on my bosom, it loves thee most truly, 
 Its warmest pulsation is due unto thee; 
 
 I owe thee my homage, and tender it duly, 
 No part of our folly shall linger with me. 
 118 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 THE VINE TRELLISED GATE. 
 
 Some moments in childhood past sweetly with time 
 Which mem'ry from fondness would dare to relate; 
 
 And manhood has furnished some truly sublime, 
 For instance that hour by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 Then low in the west hung the bright orb of daj% 
 Preparing for slumber no far distant date; 
 
 Ere parting I fancied I'd something to say 
 As we were alone by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 The zephyrs of ev'ning dashed heedlessly by, 
 
 Nor would with their soul soothing fragrance await; 
 
 I gazed on lier cheek and her glossy blue eye 
 And we were alone by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 By this, the red sun slvunbered low in the west, 
 The beauties of nature no tongue could o'er rate; 
 
 She promised to be mine and leaned on my breast, 
 And we were alone by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 Tlien far in the woodland, so tangled and rude. 
 The owlet kept calling his sad hearted mate. 
 
 While calmly the night hawk her victim pursued. 
 And we were alone by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 AVhen darkness had shut o'er the dim distant glen. 
 And prudence might truly a parting dictate, 
 
 I kissed her and fondly embraced her again. 
 And left her alone at the vine trellised gate. 
 
 The soldier may hasten to the blood-dyed field 
 And purchase a title high sounding and great; 
 
 But solace or comfort it never can yield 
 To rival my hour by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 The miser may struggle his millions to hoard 
 Till summoned to answer the summons of Fate; 
 
 But solace or pleasure tliey ne'er can afford 
 
 Compared with that hour by the vine trellised gate. 
 
 9 119 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Give riches or titles to those wlio request; 
 
 Give freedom to the wretch who stares thro' the grate; 
 But should you endeavor to soothe my sad breast 
 
 O give me that hour by the vine trellised gate! 
 
 IF I WERE YOUNG, 
 
 If I were yoimg and you were young 
 
 And both our hands were free, 
 Sweet words miglit ripple from my tongue 
 
 And thou miglitst smile on me. 
 Then might I ask tliee for thy heart 
 
 And mine in turn bestow; 
 Then might T feel how dear thou art — 
 
 Might even tell thee so. 
 
 I love thee, but I'm free to say 
 
 I'd fain that secret hide; 
 And I have loved thee since the day 
 
 I first sat by thy side. 
 Yes, love thee, but I ask no more 
 
 Thau friendship in return; 
 
 grant me this and as of yore 
 Still let my passion burn! 
 
 Twelve years ago I left luisaid 
 
 "V^Hiat might have pleased thine ear; 
 O'er that neglect my heart has bled 
 
 As you can witness here. 
 Thro' all those years I've toiled in vain 
 
 To smother down mj flame, 
 But my poor heart and tortured brain 
 
 Perceive its Avarmth the same. 
 
 The greenest 2)aths that I can find 
 Are those where we have stray'd; 
 
 1 love them for they, on my mind, 
 Have true impressions made. 
 
 120 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Earth's dearest sjiot is that bright bower 
 Where first you smiled on me; 
 
 And sunset bi'ings my sweetest hour — 
 It malies me think of thee. 
 
 The softest breeze is that which blows 
 
 From where you chance to be; 
 The sweetest words of all are those 
 
 That you have said to me; 
 The brightest birds that sing their lays 
 
 Now in the trees above 
 Are those that warbled on the sprays 
 
 'Neath which we talked of love. 
 
 Sweet lady, thou art dear to me, 
 
 Nor can I tell thee why; 
 My fire of love burns on for thee 
 
 Despite the years gone by. 
 Burns on for thee, but grant me not 
 
 One word or tliought undue; 
 Smile on, and pardon me for what 
 
 I've whispered liere to j-ou. 
 
 GO WREATHE THY SOFT FOREHEAD. 
 
 Go wreathe thy soft forehead in flowers as fair 
 As ever o'er woman's smooth temples were hung, 
 
 And with them embellish thy long, shining hair 
 Thou, like them, art lovely, art tender and young. 
 
 A slave to thy beauty I'm ever from this; 
 
 I love thee, adore thee, and offer my all. 
 I would live in thy heart tho' cotters may hiss 
 
 To see me inhabit a dwelling so small. 
 
 121 
 
HEART WHn^PERS 
 
 WEEP NOT SWEET GIRL. 
 
 Weep not sweet girl when I shall leave 
 Life's gay and joyous throng, 
 
 I would not one fond heart should grieve 
 For me in sighs or song. 
 
 Weep not, sweet girl, T claim no tear 
 
 My grave in ocean's breast; 
 No, never let thy gentle mind 
 
 Lose one sweet moment's rest. 
 
 ^Veep not, sweet girl, T claim no tear 
 From Beauty's sparkling eye. 
 
 When mould'ring in their humble bier 
 Mv darkened embers lie. 
 
 LADY, SWEET LADY! 
 
 O lady, sweet lady! our pastimes are o'er, 
 And now by thy side I may wander no more; 
 To regions far distant thy footsteps shall roam 
 \^^lile duty compels me to linger at home. 
 
 O lady, sweet lady! if faces more fair 
 In thy deep feeling heart should captiu'e my share; 
 If I know not my loss 'twill grieve not my heart 
 And I shall adore thee wlierever thou art. 
 
 I STOOD ON THE HILLSIDE. 
 
 I stood on the hillside 
 
 One lovely May morn 
 And the sad doves still sighed 
 
 From out the rude thorn; 
 122 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 The mockbirds were singing 
 
 Tlieir anthems above; 
 The woodland was ringing 
 
 With matins of love. 
 
 The pheasant was humming 
 
 Far off in the brake — 
 Her strange way of drumming 
 
 Made every thing shake; 
 Old Phoebus shone brightly, 
 
 And soft was the air, 
 My bosom beat lightly, 
 
 For Mary was there. 
 
 My Mary had features 
 
 Attractive for me; 
 The fairest of creatures 
 
 I thought her to be. 
 I pressed her hand lightly 
 
 As she stood by my side, 
 And thought that she might be 
 
 In manhood my bride. 
 
 SWEET MARY. 
 
 Sweet Mary, in childhood 
 
 We strayed thro' the dell, 
 Our sports by tlie wild-wood 
 
 No numbers may tell. 
 Thy bosom's fond feelings 
 
 I read in thine eyes, 
 Those gentle revealings 
 
 That matrons chastise. 
 
 I sought not to woo thee 
 By language expressed. 
 
 For my heart unto thee 
 Had flown from my breast. 
 123 
 
HEART WnnSPERS 
 
 I loved thee sincerely, 
 
 I knew it the while, 
 So fondly, so dearly, 
 
 I worsliiped thy smile. 
 
 Fronr the eve till the morrow 
 
 You dwelt in my mind, 
 I knew not that sorrow 
 
 Was skulking behind; 
 But clouds o'er the morning 
 
 Of childhood were strown 
 ^Vhen duty gave warning 
 
 That pleasure had flown. 
 
 I felt that our parting 
 
 Would sadden my heart; 
 The sad tears were starting, 
 
 I welcomed their start. 
 So fondly you eyed me 
 
 With soul-thrilling gaze, 
 They saw who espied me 
 
 My countenance blaze. 
 
 At midnight we parted. 
 
 The revel was o'er, 
 I left thee and started 
 
 To my rude hut's door. 
 The viol's soft numbers 
 
 Rang sweet in mine ear; 
 That night in my slumbers 
 
 They sounded as clear. 
 
 Thy soft eyes were glancing 
 
 Deep into my own; 
 We joined in the dancing. 
 
 We lingered alone. 
 Those ej-es were so tender 
 
 As they gazed in mine, 
 I worshiped their splendor 
 
 As something divine. 
 
 124 
 
HEART WHfHPERS 
 
 then thou wert taken 
 
 Away from my side! 
 My young heart was shaken 
 
 But rallied its pride. 
 Not since have I met thee 
 
 To gaze on thy form, 
 But ne'er shall forget thee 
 
 While this heart is warm. 
 
 O now thou art sleeping! 
 
 Nor need I know Avhere; 
 No sad ej^e is keeping 
 
 Its lone vigils there. 
 But he who remembers 
 
 Thy features to-day 
 Could weep where thy embers 
 
 In silence decay. 
 
 SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME. 
 
 say that you love me, sweet lady, to-night! 
 
 And let me be happy ere parting with thee. 
 The breezes blow softly, and Scynthia's pale light 
 
 Steals in at the window betwixt thee and me. 
 May nothing more dreadful between us appear 
 
 Till Obit's cold fingers have broken the chain. 
 And silenced thy bosom forever, my dear, 
 
 Or snatched me away to his dusky domain. 
 
 O say that you love me, sweet lady! and let 
 
 Me place on thy finger this circlet of gold. 
 It cost me a fortnight of labor and sweat 
 
 But this bit of av'rice I need not have told. 
 For where is the desert or where is the pole. 
 
 Aye, where is the ocean I wovild not explore 
 If thou wilt but promise with heart and with soul 
 
 To love me and wed me when my journey is o'er ? 
 125 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 O say that you love me, sweet lady! nor deign 
 
 My bosom in torture one moment to hold; 
 Thy love is a treasure I seek to obtain — 
 
 I'd rather possess it than Vanderbilt's gold. 
 Then say that you love me and let me possess 
 
 This treasure, this jewel, so charming and dear; 
 Unless I secure it I truly confess 
 
 My bosom is henceforth a desert most drear. 
 
 I KNOW THAT YOU LOVE ME. 
 
 1 know tliat you love me, sweet lady, although 
 
 Thy fair lips have never this secret revealed, 
 For love, like the sunbeam, sets beauty aglow 
 
 And brightens our features when we think it conceal'd. 
 You grant me your friendship and firmly declare 
 
 That love in your bosom ne'er nestled for me; 
 But love is true friendship's legitimate heir. 
 
 Then where is the diflf'rence, if diff'rence there be. 
 
 I know that you love me, sweet lady, as well 
 
 As if you had said it with tears in thine eye. 
 Your actions have told what no language can tell. 
 
 And now to disprove it is fruitless to try. 
 Then come to my bosom nor cause me to sigh, 
 
 I love you as fondly as you have loved me. 
 Tlio' others have wooed thee in moments gone by. 
 
 Regardless of past loves, I'm happy with thee. 
 
 I know that you love me, sweet lady, and yet 
 
 You dare to deny it, but make it more true; 
 The beacon of love on life's rude ocean set, 
 
 Quite seldom is hidden from the mariner's view. 
 Thro' all of your featiu-es that beacon still glows 
 
 In spite of your efforts to darken the way; 
 Your glossy blue eyes its fair presence disclose 
 
 'Twas friendship at one time, but true love to-day. 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 SEND ME BACK MY HEART. 
 
 send me back my truant lieart! 
 
 'T has been away from home too long. 
 Yes, send it back and I'll impart 
 
 From out its depths one farewell song. 
 It loves thee but it loves in vain 
 
 For thou hast ne'er its love returned, 
 Ten j'ears within my heart and brain 
 
 For thee that fire of love has burned. 
 
 O send me back my truant heart! 
 
 Though it has bled upon the rack 
 And suffered many a cruel smart 
 
 I'll take the hopeless wanderer back. 
 With compass lost, with rudder gone, 
 
 And all its tattered canvas furled; 
 I'll take it back and wander on, 
 
 A hermit in a crowded world. 
 
 SAY NOT THAT I LOVED IN VAIN. 
 
 Say not that 1 have loved in vain 
 
 And that thou'lt love me never. 
 That cruel word would tear in twain 
 
 My boyish heart forever; 
 'T would exile all my pleasures here 
 
 For I love thee sincerely, 
 And I've, thro' many a by-gone year, 
 
 Loved thee, and loved thee dearly. 
 
 Say not one word to make me sigh 
 Or make my pathway drearer; 
 
 I fiiid, as the fleet years steal by. 
 That thou art growing dearer, 
 
 127 
 
HEART WHIMPERS 
 
 I've toiled to wrench my heart from thee. 
 
 And all thy ties to sever, 
 But thou hast set thy spells on me. 
 
 Now I'm thy slave forever. 
 
 Say not 'tis vain forever more 
 
 For me to love thee, woo thee; 
 My boyish bosom from its core 
 
 Pours out its fondness to thee. 
 I love thee inore each time we meet 
 
 And have since first I met thee; 
 This beating heart shall cease to beat 
 
 Ere I shall e'er forget thee. 
 
 Say not that I have loved for naught, 
 
 And that the hopes I cherisli 
 With many a sweet and tender thought, 
 
 Like leaves, are doomed to perish. 
 One harsh word from thy rosy lips 
 
 Would all my heart-strings sever, 
 My fondly cherished hopes eclipse 
 
 And spoil my peace forever. 
 
 YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU. 
 
 You know that I love you. And why need you ask 
 A question I've answered so often before? 
 
 To love you, sweet lady, is no weary task, 
 But 'twould be a hard one to love you aught more. 
 
 You know that I love you, or never would I 
 Have labored to prove it these dozen long years; 
 
 I love you, nor need you to question me wliy, 
 Since beauty in all of your features appears. 
 
 You know that I love you, for cold were my heart 
 If it for your beauty had nothing but praise; 
 
 So lovely, so charming, so graceful thou art 
 That I can but love thee the rest of my days. 
 128 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Yoii know that I love you; my passion burns on 
 In spite of the years that have vanished away, 
 
 Like flowers that open all o'er the soft lawn 
 And die ere the fall of another bright day. 
 
 You know that I love you, to you I have told 
 That sweet little secret a hundred times o'er 
 
 Since that lovely May morn we leisurely strolled 
 To whisper of love on the rivulet's shore. 
 
 You know that I love you, I gave you my heart 
 That morning as homeward we traversed our track; 
 
 Gave all of that treasure, not only a part. 
 And never a moment have wished for it back. 
 
 WHEN I'M NO MORE. 
 
 When I'm no more, if you should think 
 
 Of how I used to love thee, 
 Go let the clay one tear drop drink, 
 
 That cold clay heaped above me. 
 And tell thy heart on that same day: 
 
 "Beneath this earthly cover 
 Fast mould'ring back to silent clay 
 
 Lies thy most faithful lover." 
 
 Wlien I'm no more, if one sweet thought 
 
 With mem'ry comes unbidden 
 Of how my heart so bravely fought 
 
 To keep its passion hidden. 
 Then tell, oh! tell thy heart within, 
 
 Though into raptures driven: 
 "If loving thee is all his sin 
 
 be that sin forgiven!" 
 
 When I'm no more, if aught I've said 
 Should e'er appear unto thee. 
 
 Tell thy fond heart: "Now he is dead 
 That did so fondly woo thee." 
 129 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 And strew such blossoms o'er my clay 
 
 As may beseem thy duty, 
 And by that mound be free to saj^: 
 
 "Here sleeps the slave of beauty." 
 
 ^Vlien I'm no more, if words of mine 
 
 Should please when you are older, 
 Then tell thy heart: "His heart was thine 
 
 Till it began to moulder. 
 He loved tliee till the last faint breath 
 
 From his pale lips departed. 
 Sincere in life, sincere in death. 
 
 Fond, gentle and true-hearted." 
 
 I WENT TO BRING MY HEART BACK. 
 
 I went to biing my heart back 
 
 One lovely iday in June, 
 And when I rose to st<irt back 
 
 Late in the afternoon. 
 Sad tears began to wander 
 
 Adown her crimson cheek; 
 I felt my breast grow fonder 
 
 Ere she had time to speak. 
 
 I went to bring my heart back 
 
 And seat it in my breast, 
 She only gave a part back 
 
 And avsked to keep the rest. 
 'Twas cruel to deprive her 
 
 Of what she long had had. 
 And cruel still to drive her 
 
 Ecstatic bosom mad. 
 
 130 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 THOU LOV'ST ME NOT. 
 
 Thou loA^'st me not, but I love thee. 
 
 If thou again wouldst love me 
 Then Heaven with its joys would be 
 
 Around and not above me. 
 In years gone by the heart I ask 
 
 Lay at my feet unheeded; 
 I little thought how hard the task 
 
 To win it back when needed. 
 
 Thou lov'st me not; my poor heart aches 
 
 To tliink thy love T share not. 
 It burns, it bleeds, it pines, it breaks, 
 
 But yet you seem to care not. 
 My fire of love burns on for thee, 
 
 This heart has furnished fuel. 
 how can one so lovely be 
 
 So careless ajid so cruel! 
 
 Thou lov'st me not; 'tis fruitless now 
 
 To pour these idle numbers 
 O'er where Affection's sacred vow 
 
 In cold oblivion slumbers. 
 Thy love would dry these useless tears, 
 
 Heal wounds that now undo me, 
 And throughout all my fviture years 
 
 Give hope and comfort to me. 
 
 Thou lov'st me not; the years steal by 
 
 And leave my bosom sighing. 
 Yes, and the lieart for which I sigh 
 
 At other feet is lying. 
 At his vain feet who lieeds it not 
 
 Nor cares for its caressing, 
 Wliile I repine to share his lot 
 
 And make thy life a blessing. 
 
 131 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 SHE LOVES ME NOT. 
 
 She loves me not, and I have siglied 
 
 Thro' all these years, these tiresome years. 
 And I've invoked my sense of pride 
 
 To drive away these fruitless tears. 
 But my vain heart is doomed to ache, 
 
 And sadness is my destined lot. 
 My life has been a sad mistake, 
 
 And all because slie loves me not. 
 
 Slie loves me not, and T lu^^•e j^aid 
 
 My homage to an idle shrine; 
 Her lovely form was only made 
 
 To wreck this poor, proud heart of mine. 
 My feet would go, but earth has not 
 
 One raylesa cave or desert drear 
 ^\^iere her fair face might be forgot, 
 
 And her sweet voice I might not hear. 
 
 She loves me not, tlio' I have sung. 
 
 My heart's fond feelings to impart. 
 And still warm words fall from my tongue, 
 
 But fail to melt her frozen heart. 
 WHiose verse might tell what loads of care 
 
 Have prest on this p^or heart of mine. 
 But still her image lingers there, 
 
 I'm still a pilgrim to her shrine. i 
 
 She loves me not, and I liave trieJ 
 
 To steal my heart from her embrace; 
 E'en tried to lind some gulf so wide 
 
 That it would hide her handsome face. 
 And tho' I ne'er may shar;^ her love, 
 
 Her heart's warm feelings ne'er secure, 
 May some bright angel from above 
 
 Watch o'er her life and keep it pure. 
 
 132 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 STANZAS TO . 
 
 If love is ill your lieait 
 
 Tell me so, tell ine so, 
 And let me mine impart 
 
 Ere I go. 
 Come not in friendsliip's name, 
 For friendship is too tame, 
 But grant a warmer flame 
 
 Unto me and 'twill be 
 A blessing, not a sliame, 
 
 E'en to thee. 
 
 You say you've none to love 
 
 Here below, here below. 
 And none 'neath Heaven above 
 
 Shares your woe. 
 Then why not my heart take? 
 For it is doomed to ache 
 And finally to break 
 
 Unless you such thing do 
 My future bliss to make, 
 
 And prove true. 
 
 You know how dear thou art 
 
 Unto me, unto me. 
 And you know how my heart 
 
 Bleeds for thee. 
 For you have heard it told. 
 With half a mind to scold. 
 And under friendship cold - 
 
 Vainly tried to abide. 
 While love's great fountain roll'd 
 
 By your side. 
 
 I know I've warmly prest 
 You to tell, you to tell 
 
 \Vliose image in your breast 
 Dares to dwell. 
 
 133 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Because I hoped my own, 
 In peace, dwelt there alone, 
 On Tjove's imperial throne; 
 
 But you try to deny 
 The fondness you have shown, 
 
 So, goodby! 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 Woman, unless you would undo me 
 Say not those same sweet words unto me. 
 Alas! my heart is pining, grieving, 
 And woman glories in deceiving. 
 If sucli you seek, dismiss your foil)' 
 Nor fill my life with melancholy. 
 If love you have, at once bestow it. 
 Nor dare to kill the hapless poet. 
 
 Woman, my sad heart lies before thee, 
 Thou art my shrine and I adore thee; 
 Thou hast been wooed by suitors royal. 
 But none has ever proved more loyal; 
 No fonder heart has homage jjaid thee 
 Since Heaven's hand in Eden made thee; 
 And as thou'rt all in all unto me. 
 Then seek to soothe and not imdo me. 
 
 IT PAINS MY BREAST. 
 
 Lady, it pains my breast 
 
 And sends a shudder thro' me 
 
 To think how you've caressed 
 
 And now would fain undo me. 
 
 But why rehearse 
 
 In uncouth verse 
 
 134 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Wliat only serves to grieve us? 
 For passion makes 
 Some linge mistakes, 
 
 And struggles to deceive us. 
 
 Lady, I'm so distresseid 
 
 I feel unpleasant near thee, 
 I'll go where Earth's broad breast 
 Some prospect has to cheer me. 
 
 Her wildest glen 
 
 Is charming when 
 Our birds become unclever. 
 
 The rocks high piled, 
 
 In woodland's wild, 
 Are dearer then than ever. 
 
 Lady, you grieve my breast, 
 
 And as we met, we sever. 
 I go in search of rest. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, forever! 
 Earth's rudest hill 
 Is kinder still 
 To man than murd'i'ous woman. 
 Too late! too late! 
 Why did I wait? 
 I knew that I was hiunan! 
 
 Lady, you please my breast; 
 
 Fresh charms I now discover. 
 Well, earth no spot possessed 
 
 Where could have dwelt your lover, 
 
 I thought you had 
 
 Some failings bad. 
 But I was in an error. 
 
 Since I am thine. 
 
 And thou art mine, 
 You cease to be a terror. 
 
 135 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 SAY NOT. 
 
 O say not that friendship alone 
 
 Is all you have for me! 
 Friendship has ne'er such glances thrown 
 
 As I have caught from thee. 
 
 O say not that thy shipwrecked heart, 
 
 On wedlock's stormy sea, 
 In passion's game has play'd its part. 
 
 And feels no warmtli for me! 
 
 SWEET LADY, GOODBYE. 
 
 My heart is a rover. 
 And broad oceans over. 
 
 My pathway may go. 
 It is as I told thee, 
 But think not I scold thee 
 
 For giving the blow. 
 Since gone is my treasure. 
 And with it my pleasure, 
 
 what verse can measure 
 My bosom's sad throe! 
 
 Wild, wild is the motion 
 Of the broad, broad ocean 
 O'er which I shall go. 
 
 1 heard the low groaning 
 Of these billows moaning 
 
 In moments gone by. 
 But Beauty Avhen smiling 
 Is tempting, beguiling, 
 
 To bosom and eye; 
 I paused to believe thee. 
 You sought to deceive me, 
 136 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 And aimed but to grieve me 
 
 And cause me to sigh; 
 Hope's star has gone by me, 
 Care's midnight is nigh me, 
 
 Sweet lady, goodbye. 
 
 NOT YET. 
 
 Not yet, wearj' heart! not yet 
 
 Have wo put one fair creature by, 
 Nor has time taught us to forget 
 
 The brilliance of one bright blue eye. 
 I fain would sip from Lethe's stream 
 Since life's so like an idle dream. 
 Yes, fain would act Dame Reason's part 
 
 And teach my bosom to foi'get; 
 Would drive one fair face from my heart. 
 
 But some strange power forbids it yet. 
 
 Not yet, weary heart! not yet 
 
 Are we from Beauty's thralldom free. 
 And Hope from Passion's parapet 
 
 Discerns no light on Fortune's sea. 
 Poor heart! in manhood's early spring 
 Fate brought these painful songs we sing. 
 And we would fain unlearn the lore 
 
 That once we strove so hard to getj 
 Would kneel at Hattie's feet no more. 
 
 But some strange power forbids it yet. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Farewell, my sweetest sweet. 
 
 Yet I am leaving . 
 My poor .heart at thy feet 
 
 Distressed and grieving. 
 137 
 
HEART WHISPERf^ 
 
 Sad heart ordained to take 
 
 Its portion sadly, 
 Because it dared to make 
 
 True love so madly. 
 When this affection came 
 
 We felt it plainly, 
 And nursed the tender flame. 
 
 But nursed it vainly. 
 
 Farewell, my fairest fair. 
 
 Although I love thee, 
 Of late some clouds of care 
 
 Are come above me. 
 Our love, though true and warm, 
 
 Is doomed to perish, 
 Nor need thine angel form 
 
 A hope to cherish. 
 If all my love for thee 
 
 Had not been spoken, 
 1 might have borne to see 
 
 Thy poorlieart broken. 
 
 Farewell, my dearest dear. 
 
 Farewell forever. 
 Vain is this painful tear 
 
 For we must sever. 
 My poor proud heart to thine 
 
 Pays homage duly. 
 And knowing thine to mine, 
 
 Distracts me truly. 
 But may thy life be sweet. 
 
 Mine be the sorrow; 
 As strangers let us meet, 
 
 If on the moiTow. 
 
 138 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 WOMAN, 
 
 O woman! clear woman! my love lays are over, 
 
 And some one more favored thy praises may sing; 
 
 My heart is still true but my Muse is a rover 
 And bargains with Fancy to lend her a wing. 
 
 woman! dear woman! discard not the lover 
 
 "NMiose heart as an off 'ring has burdened your shrine; 
 
 Since early in boyhood he chanced to discover 
 That passion is friendship, but friendship divine. 
 
 139 
 
PATRIOTIC LAYS 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 America, grand and glorious, 
 The brightest offspring of the world, 
 
 And in ev'ry land victorious 
 
 Where'er thy flag has been unfiirrd. 
 
 Bright region of our birth, we love thee; 
 
 Our hearts are ever on thy shrine; 
 Like Phoebus in the skies above thee 
 
 May'st thou thro' future ages shine. 
 
 Be thou the pole star to tlic nations 
 That led the world ere tliou wert born; 
 
 Let infamy, Avith its temptations. 
 Henceforth, receive its meed of scorn. 
 
 May envy, hatred, strife and malice 
 To union, peace and love give place; 
 
 Let Freedom's flag from Freedom's palace 
 Ride not the breeze to our disgrace. 
 
 We feel that Providence has made thee 
 To be the great World's life and heart, 
 
 And in the matchless power array 'd thee, 
 Designed to play a noble part. 
 
 Tlien be what Heav'n sought to make thee, 
 The home of freedom, love and fame. 
 
 And Fortune's smile will ne'er forsake thee 
 Or vile dishonor stain thy name. 
 
 America, though nations hate thee. 
 
 And gladly would thy prospects blight, 
 
 Be true, for triumphs yet await thee 
 If thou persist in doing right. 
 140 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 In vvee3s of mourning Freedom stood, 
 
 Stained with a nation's gore, 
 And Washington, less great than good, 
 
 Her reeking standard bore. 
 
 The scene had closed, the time was up, 
 Fate's Gordian knot had slipped. 
 
 And Peace from stale Oppression's cup 
 The poison dregs had sipped. 
 
 In arms our brave forefathers rose 
 
 At Freedom's dying groan, 
 And England found her direst foes 
 
 In nurslings of her own. 
 
 Yes, found, too late, her unweaned child 
 
 No dearth of valor nursed; 
 And saw from woodlands rude and wild 
 
 A race of heroes burst. 
 
 Half armed, half fed, those vct'rans bore 
 
 The liorrors of the fray. 
 And heard the English lion roar 
 
 In jungles far away. 
 
 The sun-brown hand that held the gun 
 
 To slay an Indian foe. 
 Against a royal Briton's son 
 
 Might aim as sure a blow. 
 
 The men that grew in wilds afar. 
 
 To hew the forests down, 
 Were nerved to wrench the brightest star 
 
 From England's gorgeous crown. 
 
 Brave men and true Columbia gave 
 
 At Fate-sent Glory's dawn; 
 And earth has seen no nobler grave 
 
 Than his who led them on. 
 141 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 'Twas dark, and Freedom's light liad gone 
 
 From Fortune's firmament; 
 Tlie patriot's SAvord seemed vainly drawn, 
 
 His blood as vainly spent. 
 Our Nation's lieart was on the rack, 
 
 And Valor's pulse was low, 
 Hope's footlights by her future track 
 
 Cast but a feeble glow. 
 
 Faint voices to higli Heav'n ap2)ealed, 
 
 And fervent prayers went up, 
 Imploring aid to sweep the field 
 
 And pass the bitter cup. 
 ,^^%ile Valor grasped the battle blade 
 
 And went to meet the foe, 
 Undaunted in hot blood to wade 
 
 Since Fate decreed it so. 
 
 The red coats came with song and shout. 
 
 And hands upraised to i)our 
 Destruction's awful vials out 
 
 On our delightful shore, 
 Not dreaming that in time of need 
 
 From hill top, wood and glen, 
 To purchase liberty or bleed, 
 
 Ha»d come such fearless men. 
 
 The days dragged on, sad, dark and slow 
 
 'JVIid howling Winter's rage; 
 Bare feet left footprints in the snow 
 
 And names on Glory's page. 
 Those starving men by Valor led, 
 
 Immortal triumphs wroug'ht: 
 Wrung vict'ry from the hand that bled 
 
 And useful lessons taught. 
 
 142 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 On many a plain those armies met. 
 
 By mountains, wood and flood, 
 Witli sabre, ball and bayonet 
 
 To spill heroic blood. 
 At length the dawn of Fortune's day 
 
 The will of Heav'n revcal'd. 
 And stern John Bull's stronghold gave way 
 
 On Yorktown's fatal field. 
 
 JACKSON'S ADDRESS 
 
 To his Soldiers at New Orleans. 
 
 Strike, comrades, for glory, we fig'ht not to yield, 
 Let's conquer the red coats or sleep on the field. 
 Our banner is hoisted o'er soldiers as brave 
 As ever have fallen a nation to save. 
 Make ready to battle with foemen who come 
 To grai:)ple with death at the tap of the drum; 
 Be mindful of beauty's true sacredness now 
 And tarnish the laurels on Packenham's brow. 
 
 The legions are coming, hark! hark to the drum! 
 Let's deal them destruction as fast as they come. 
 It is ours to triumph, not think of defeat. 
 And England's proud banner shall fall at our feet. 
 Strike, comrades, in vengeance, make deadly the fray, 
 Our glory depends on our conduct to-day. 
 Unflinching we meet them, our utmost to do; 
 A kingdom this morning's fierce combat shall rue. 
 
 143 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 ON THE EVE OF OUR WAR WITH SPAIN. 
 
 On, on, witli bayonet and sword. 
 
 Hoist up the standard liigh'r. 
 Pour out upon the Spanish horde 
 
 Destruction, death and fire. 
 O Spain! thy arms, tho' red with gore, 
 
 Shall yet be made to yield. 
 We'll teach thy Dons to war no more. 
 
 Or leave them on the field. 
 
 On, on, 'tis Heav'n's hand that leads 
 
 Columbia's fearless band 
 To where a nation's Freedom bleeds 
 
 By grim Oppression's hand. 
 'Tis ours to rend their captives' chains, 
 
 Their wives and children free. 
 And rear upon the Cuban plains 
 
 The shrine of liberty. 
 
 AFTER THE WAR. 
 
 'Twas fearful, but 'tis over, 
 And Peace returns to dwell 
 From whence Oppression drove her 
 
 With sabre, grape and shell. 
 Like grass they fell before us, 
 
 Expiring in their gore, 
 'Twas Fortune's hand that bore us 
 Down on the Cuban shore. 
 
 The bloody work is ended. 
 
 The murd'rous cannons cease.. 
 And Freedom's chain is mended 
 
 With til' golden link of Peace. 
 Now, Cubans, on to glory! 
 
 Let naught your steps delay, 
 Columbia's hands are gory 
 Because of you to-day. 
 144 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 DON'T SEND HIM HERE. 
 
 The voice of American Freedom is suijposed to speak in the 
 following lines when Bonaparte made application to Wellington for 
 passports to the United States of America. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 In Heaven's sacred name transfer 
 
 Us no one that ye fear. 
 We nmsed an Arnold, grew a Burr, 
 
 And others may appear. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 He drenched the earth in human gore, 
 
 He knows no virtue dear, 
 And soon would make my shining shore 
 
 Black as a murderer's bier. 
 
 Don't send him liere. 
 My champior; sleeps, his grave is wet 
 
 With many a pious tear. 
 And foreign Valor shudders yet 
 
 His matchless name to hear. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 He waved Destruction's iron hand 
 
 O'er empires far and near. 
 Drove Peace from frozen Switzerland 
 
 And filled her heart with fear. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 His sordid heart no goodness knows. 
 
 Conquest alone is dear-, 
 Wliere rapine's lawless current Hows 
 
 He seeks his course to steer. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 The foot would stain Columbia's shore 
 
 And spoil her bright career 
 That left its print in Austrian gore 
 By Russian Freedom's bier. 
 145 
 
HEART WHISPERS 
 
 Don't send liim here. 
 He cast away his faithful Avife 
 For lack to fill her sphere. 
 
 And found by the wayside of life 
 A paramour as dear. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 Tlie lordly Alps no barrier formed 
 
 To check his mad career; 
 'Mid winter's snows his legions stormed 
 
 Those mountains wild and drear. 
 
 Don't send him liere. 
 "When Moscow's embers round liim lay 
 
 With prospect dark and drear. 
 The tear that wet liis cheek tliat day 
 
 Was not a pitying tear. 
 
 Don't send liim here. 
 Old Earth has eaves and caverns wide, 
 
 The sounding ocean near, 
 AVliere foreign despots may reside, 
 
 So bring not murderers here. 
 
 Don't send him here. 
 In teaching men to call him great 
 
 He taught some truths severe; 
 A million homes made desolate 
 
 Attest it with a tear. 
 
 146 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 10. 
 
 Ivirewcll, farewell, the briny tear 
 
 Was addressed to a beautiful and accomplislied young lady on the 
 eve of her departure for her home in tlie South, from which she 
 had fled during a Yellow Fever epidemic. 
 
 Page 12. 
 
 Who bathed the world in blood and tears 
 To leave himself a name. 
 
 "The carnage occasioned by the wars of Julius Caesar lias been 
 usually estimated at two millions of men." — Thos. Campbell's Note. 
 
 Page 1.3. 
 
 And doubtless is as blest as he 
 Whose wish one world obeyed. 
 
 Alexander the Great, who, having conquered the world, is said 
 to have wept because there were no more worlds to conquer. 
 
 Page 13. 
 
 And he who shook the sword awhile 
 
 O'er half a world subdued. 
 Was lain on stern Helena's isle 
 
 In peace and quietude. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, who elied and was buried on the rocky 
 island of St. Helena, six thousand miles from his native home. 
 
 Page 17. 
 
 She loved, she mused, she warbled here 
 
 When life's full tide was swelling. 
 And as they were these walls appear 
 Ere they became her dwelling. 
 
 These lines were suggested on passing the long abandoned home 
 of a beautiful j'oung poetess. 
 
 147 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 27. 
 
 And thou must sleep, so fare thee well 
 Although thy task is incomplete. 
 
 This poem and tlie preceding one were produced in early life 
 during a long and serious illness when I expected soon to change 
 worlds. This being intended for the last effort of my Muse. 
 
 rage 20. 
 
 Hadst thou not sighed o'er thy ill-fated brave, 
 And slied tliy secret tears by Freedom's grave? 
 
 See Moore's lines on the Irish patriot, Robert Emmett, begin- 
 ning — 
 
 "O breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shado, 
 Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid." 
 
 Page 2!). 
 
 Hadst thou not used thy wit to save thy neck 
 When Treason's ill-planned project came to wreck? 
 
 See Memoirs of Thos. Moore, to Call and ingles' Ed. of his 
 poems. 
 
 Page 29. 
 
 Why take from the same hand a worthless bone 
 Tliat forced out Irish FreeiJom's dying groan? 
 
 "Moore accepted the appointment to the office of Registrar in 
 the Admiralty Court of Bermuda." See Gall ami Ingles' Memoirs. 
 
 Page 29. 
 
 That pack-horse with his same old striped sack 
 And lialf a clothing-house upon his back. 
 
 The Irish peddlers that used to throng the country were ac- 
 customed to wrap tlieir goods in a striped cloth, (bed ticking), and 
 carry them on their backs. 
 
 Page 29. 
 
 O, sir! our Jackson met your Packenham. 
 
 Gen. Andrew Jackson defeated Sir Edward Packenham at New 
 Orleans, Jan. 8, 1815. 
 
 Page 29. 
 
 Our chief once entertained the English horde 
 And by his kindness won Cornwallis' sword. 
 
 Lord Cornwallis, commander-in-chief of the British forces, sur- 
 rendered to Gen. George Washington at Yorktown, Oct. 19, 1781. 
 
 148 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 30. 
 
 Yes, sleep entombed in dirty Goose Creek's bed. 
 
 "A little stream runs through the city (Washington) which, 
 with intolerable atlectation, they have styled the Tiber. It was 
 originally called Goose Ci'eek." — Tom. Moore's Note. 
 
 Page 31. 
 
 scorn him not tho' thou canst find 
 No comfort in his sweetest strain! 
 
 These lines were written to a young lady, who had been lead- 
 ing my copy of Byron's Poems, and on returning it appeared dis- 
 pleased with "Poor, pioud Byron." 
 
 Page 33. 
 
 An hour with thee; how could T ask 
 Aught move of happiness? 
 
 Was occasioned by a j'oung lady's invitation to "Call and spend 
 an hour beneath her parental roof." 
 
 Page 34. 
 
 My home is now my home no more. 
 
 These stanzas were written in reply to the following elegant 
 lines printed on a beautiful floral card that was handed to the 
 author by a handsome and attractive voung ^^'idow in tlie autumn 
 of 1880: ■ 
 
 "As thro' the world alone I roam, 
 
 Whate'er in life my lot may be, 
 I'd give it all to share thy home. 
 
 To pass my happy life with thee. 
 Oh ! then if sorrow come or care 
 
 My heart would find its sure relief 
 To know that thou Avert ever there 
 
 To share my ev'ry joy and grief." 
 
 Page 35. 
 
 O sir! I ask no pompous pile 
 
 To mark the spot where I am laid. 
 
 A friend once remarked in my presence: "Should I 
 you I will have a monument erected to your memory." 
 
 149 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 37. 
 
 Take back the flowers, take back the flowers, 
 Thy gift has been too long delay'd. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1884 I was doing some work by the road 
 side, when a beautiful girl on passing threw a bunch of daisies 
 at my feet. I liad rented a farm that season and was living 
 alone, doing my own work in and out of doors. 
 
 Page 38. 
 
 The Grecian's cup I'd rather drink 
 Than cause thee shed one timid tear. 
 Socrates. 
 
 Page 40. 
 
 And tliou hast lingered, knelt and wept 
 Beside the grave where Valor slept. 
 
 "In the churchyard two broad flagstones marked the grave of 
 Robert Bruce, for whose memory Burns had more than common ven- 
 eration. He knelt and kissed the stone with sacred fervor." — 
 jMomoirs of Robert Burns. 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 And Cray's, a gem in ev'ry age. 
 Rang sweetly in my boyish ear. 
 Thos. Dray's famous "Elegy in a Country Church Yard." 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 Thy chirping notes lend Pollock's lay 
 A pathos rare, a cadence deep. 
 Robert Pollock's "Course of Time." 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 And White awakes the harp to weep 
 Henry Kirke AVhite. 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 And Moore with Freedom's spirit soared 
 Till Erin shook her galling chains. 
 See Thomas Moore's "Irish Melodies." 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 And Goldsmith, thro' his mellow strain. 
 At ev'ry step made hallowed ground. 
 See Oliver Goldsmith's poem, "The Traveler." 
 
 150 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 42. 
 
 I've heard thee sing when Halleck showed 
 His rev'rence for the peasant's powers. 
 See Fitz Green Halleek's poem on Burns, beginning — 
 
 "Tlie memory of Burns, a name 
 
 That calls, when brimmed her festive cup, 
 
 A nation's glory and her shame 
 In silent sadness up." 
 
 Page 42. 
 
 Thy song was heard while Rogers came 
 With glowing pictures of the past. 
 See the "Pleasures of Memory," by Samuel Rogers. 
 
 Page 43. 
 
 Then with more zeal I struck the am'rous lyre. 
 Than e'er the madman beat the walls of Tyre. 
 
 Alexander the Great, who for seven months besieged the city 
 of Tyre. See Plutarch, page 474. 
 
 Page 43. 
 
 My heart o'ertlowed with purer bliss the while 
 Than Sylla's when he caught Valeria's smile. 
 See Plutarch, page 334. 
 
 Page 46. 
 
 Of him who loved the battlefield, 
 Proud bird, thou hast reminded me. 
 See Headley's "Life of Napoleon Bonaparte," pages 16-18. 
 
 Page 47. 
 
 Ah! never till the last sad sand 
 
 Of Time is run and all is o'er. 
 Shall Wallace, Tell, Bruce, Emmet and 
 
 Our Washington survive no more. 
 
 William Wallace and Robert Bruce, of Scotland, William Tell 
 of Switzerland, Robert Emmet of Ireland and George Washington 
 of America. 
 
 Page 48. 
 
 He sleeps who woke Columbia's noblest song. 
 
 Bryant's "Thanatopsis" is perhaps the most sublime effort of 
 American genius. 
 
 151 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 53. 
 
 He sleeps, with no fond heart to keep 
 Her vigils by his bed. 
 
 This gentleman was the author of several volumes of verse, not 
 one of wliieh ever found its way to the press. Being a man of 
 irritable temper he destroyed his manuscripts after spending his 
 life in their composition. He died a bachelor in the afternoon of life. 
 
 Page 56. 
 
 'Tis sev'n o'clock, 'tis past; Time steals along. 
 
 I was born at 7 o'clock in the evening. 
 Page 61. 
 
 I slumbered till consumption's iron grip 
 
 Had snapped Life's chord and her bright spirit freed. 
 
 My mother died of consumption when I was in my fourteenth 
 year. 
 
 Page 63. 
 
 We loved him, but he sank to rest 
 With sad September's roses. 
 John Greenleaf Wliittier died on the 7th of Sept. 1892. 
 
 Page 63. 
 
 For echoed in his plaintive strain 
 I hear "Maud Muller" sighing. 
 See Whittier's poem, "Maud Muller." 
 
 Page 64. 
 
 I hear in painful numbers told 
 Why he was forced to sever 
 With her who slumbers still and cold. 
 
 See Wliittier's "Stanzas suggested by the letter of a friend," be 
 ginning — 
 
 "I see thee still before me even 
 As when we parted." 
 
 Page 64. 
 
 Who may not feel his heart expand? 
 Who may not feel elated? 
 
 See Whittier's poem beginning thus — 
 
 "Still sits the school house by the road, 
 A ragged beggar sunning." 
 152 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 64. 
 
 Since he is gone, ah! he for whom 
 These numbers were intended. 
 
 I began this poem with the expectation of sending a copy of 
 it to Lord Tennyson, but before it was completed the papers gave 
 notification of the Laureate's death. The poem was written before 
 I had seen Whittier's "Snow Bound" and "Among the Hills." 
 
 Page 65. 
 
 Sleep on beneath that grand and stately pile. 
 
 Sir Alfred, Lord Tennyson was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Page 65. 
 
 When thoughtless, homeless, brilliant Chatterton 
 With his own hand put his sad heart to sleep. 
 The young English poet, Thomas Chatterton. 
 
 Page 65. 
 
 When Fate the tender thread of life had cleft, 
 And gen'rous White in death lay cold and still. 
 Henry Kirke White of England. 
 
 Page 66. 
 
 The last sweet minstrel of our famous Choir. 
 
 Mr. Whittier was the last survivor of the choir composed of 
 Bryant, Longfellow, Halleck, Emerson and Willis. 
 
 Page 66. 
 
 I seem to hear sad Albion proclaim 
 Her love and grief for her immortal one. 
 Albion is the ancient name for England. 
 
 Page 67. 
 
 Peace! thou bird with plumage bright. 
 Come back and spread thy gentle wings. 
 O'er green Columbia's breast. 
 This ode was written just at the close of our war with Spain. 
 
 Page 8L 
 
 E'en of her own low hum afraid, 
 "Of her own gentle voice afraid," 
 Thomas Moore's 'Tjalk. Rookh." .^ ^ , ^ . 
 
 153 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 83. 
 
 Of my young heart great care they took 
 Lest Payne should sow some seed in. 
 Thomas Payne, the infidel and author of the "Age of Reason." 
 
 Page 91. 
 
 Me to the shore I've loved so long 
 Endeared by Burns' lay; 
 In early life, with Fancy, I made a pilgrimage to the grave 
 of the Scottish minstrel, Robert Burns. 
 
 Page 108. 
 
 At parting she gave it and whispered "Gtoodby." 
 Was suggested on receiving a boquet of beautiful, young 
 Miss 
 
 Page 112. 
 
 Her numbers were sweeter than Little's smooth line. , 
 "Thomas Moore's early amatory poems were published under the 
 name of Thomas Little." — Byron's Note. 
 
 Page 141. 
 
 The scene had closed, the time was up 
 Fate's Gordian knot had slipped. 
 See "Goldsmith's Greece," page 279. "Plutarch's Lives," page 
 471. 
 
 Page 143. 
 
 Be mindful of beauty's true sacredness now. 
 And tarnish the laurels on Packenham's brow. 
 
 Gen. Packenham had promised his soldiers forty-eight hours 
 pillage and rapine in the City of New Orleans. The watchword 
 and countersign of the enemy on the morning of the 8th was "Beauty 
 and Booty." Frost's "Lives of American Generals," page 761. 
 
 Page 145. 
 
 My champion sleeps, his grave is wet 
 With many a pions tear. 
 Gen. George Washington. 
 
 Page 146. 
 
 When Moscow's embers round him lay 
 
 With prospect dark and drear, 
 The tear that wet his cheek that day 
 Was not a pitying tear. 
 Bonaparte is said to have shed tears on seeing a soldier cook- 
 ing his meal on the embers of a church in the ruins of Moscow. 
 
 154 
 
AUG 21 1905,