When her little hands shall

press thee

When her lip to thine is prest,

Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee~Think of him thy love had bless'd!

Should her lineaments resemble

Those thou never more may'st see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me.

All my faults perchance thou knowest,
All my madness none can know ;
All my hopes, where'er thou goest,
Wither-yet with thee they go.

Every feeling hath been shaken:
Pride, which not a world can bow,
Bows to thee-by thee forsaken,
Even my soul forsakes me now.

But 'tis done-all words are idle
Words from me are vainer still;
But the thoughts we cannot bridle
Force their way without the will.

Fare thee well! thus disunited-
Torn from every nearer tie-
Sear'd in heart, and lone, and blighted,
More than this I scarce can die.

A BRIDAL SERENADE.

Anonymous.

WILT thou not waken, Bride of May,

While flowers are fresh, and the sweet bells chime?
Listen and learn from my roundelay,

How all Life's Pilot Boats sail'd one day,

A match with Time.

Love sat on a lotus' leaf aloft,

And saw old Time in his loaded boat;
Slowly he crossed Life's narrow tide,

While Love sat clapping his wings, and cried,

"Who will pass Time?"

Patience came first, but soon was gone
With helm and sail to help Time on;

Care and Grief could not lend an oar,

And Prudence said (while he stay❜d on shore), "I wait for Time!"

Hope filled with flowers her cork-tree bark,

And lighted its helm with a glow-worm spark;
Then Love, when he saw her bark fly fast,
Said "Lingering Time will soon be past!

"Hope out-speeds Time!"

Wit went nearest Old Time to pass,
With his diamond oar and his boat of glass;
A feathery dart from his store he drew,
And shouted while far and swift it flew-

"O Mirth kills Time!"

But Time sent the feathery arrows back,-
Hope's boat of amaranths missed its track;
Then Love bade his butterfly pilots move,
And, laughing, said, "They shall see how Love
"Can conquer Time."

His gossamer sails he spread with speed,
But Time has wings when Time has need;
Swiftly he cross'd Life's sparkling tide,
And only Memory stay'd to chide

Unpitying Time.

Wake and listen then, Bride of May!
Listen and heed thy minstrel's rhyme;~
Still for thee some bright hours stay,
For it was a hand like thine, they say,

Gave wings to Time.

SONG.

Anna Maria Porter.

RING on, ring on, ye merry bells,
And be to others sounds of gladness-
Alas! your silver sweetness swells

To wake my slumbering heart to madness.

Ring on, ring on! for since your chimes

Shall never now my wedding hallow,
O! be the voice of other times,

And rouse their joys, like spectres sallow.

Ah! ring such pensive peals as when

In these tall groves I wandered sighing ; And listened to the best of men,

Who now in yonder grave is lying.

Ah! ring such peals as may recal

Those happy hours, now gone for ever;
And whilst the bitter tear-drops fall,
At once my soul and reason sever.

TO STELLA.

O, LADY! what a night was that,
When first we met and sighed—
When first, beneath the western star,
We saw, and looked, and loved!

That bright, that pure, that holy orb,
Its tenderest influence shed;
Beheld, and smiled, and smiling blessed
Our first-born passion's hope.

O, Lady! in that little hour

What trains of thought aroseWhat visions rapt absorbed the senseWhat ages rolled away?

The swelling heart-the eye suffused

The tender blissful tear ;

The trembling hand-the throbbing pulse-
The soul's delicious thrill;

H.

They told-whate'er my future lot

Of dark, or sunny hue ;

They told me, in an angel's voice,
Thou would'st forget me not.

Then, Lady, yield thy trembling hand-
Thy dear lip let me press!
And let me seal the vow of love
That binds thee ever mine.

O, by that dear, that hallowed night,
When first we met and sighed-
When first, beneath the western star,
We saw, and looked, and loved;

O, swear beneath that star's chaste beam,
Which sanctioned then our bliss,
That thou art mine-that I am thine-
Beyond the power of fate.

O, Lady, yes! in that mild look

I read a sweet consent!

With angel voice that look proclaims-
"Thou wilt forget me not!"

WOMAN.

MUCH hath been written upon lovely woman,
Concerning dark eyes, and soft snowy necks;
A charming theme-and I am certain no man
Was ever fonder of the gentle sex

Bird.