LOVE POEMS.

WOULD N'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW?

I

A MADRIGAL.

I.

KNOW a girl with teeth of pearl,
And shoulders white as snow;

Her sunny hair is wondrous fair,

And wavy in its flow;

Who made it less

One little tress,

Would n't you like to know?

III.

Her eyes are blue (celestial hue!).

And dazzling in their glow;

On whom they beam With melting gleam,Would n't you like to know?

IV.

Her lips are red and finely wed,
Like roses ere they blow;
What lover sips

Those dewy lips, —

Her foot is small, and has a fall
Like snowflakes on the snow;
And where it goes

Beneath the rose,

Would n't you like to know?

VII.

She has a name, the sweetest name

That language can bestow;

'T would break the spell

If I should tell, —

Would n't you like to know?

THE LOVER'S VISION.

I.

N my watching, or my dreaming,

IN

Came to me a blessed vision;
Whether real or but seeming,
Boots me not to make decision;
This I know't was all elysian !

II.

By me sat a maiden fairer

Than the Oda's king possesses; But I wrong her to compare her Happy, happy whom she blesses With her kisses and caresses!

III.

Golden hair, like sunlight streaming
On the marble of her shoulder,
That with soft and snowy gleaming
Witched the eye of the beholder
Dazed me-crazed me to enfold her!

IV.

Heart to heart we sat together;

(Ah! to feel her bosom's beating!)
Hand in hand in loving tether;
Lip with lip in rapture meeting,
Parting but for closer greeting!

V.

Oft and oft I would be dreaming,
Could I bring that happy vision !

Was it real? or but seeming?
Boots me not to make decision;

"DON

THE OATH.

ON'T forget me!" sighing sadly,
So my darling bade farewell;

Haply deeming I would gladly
Disenchant me of her spell.

Ah! the siren! when did Beauty
Ask in vain Love's simple debt?
Or whene'er did languid Duty

Heed the warning, "Don't forget!"

By her eyes where love reposes;
By her wealth of golden hair;
By her cheek's ungathered roses;
By her neck divinely fair;

By her bosom, throne of blisses,

Hiding from the wanton light, `

Pale with envy at the kisses

That her bolder lips invite;

By the hours so sweetly squandered
In the summer afternoons;
By the orchard where we wandered
In the sheen of harvest moons;

By the poets, new and olden,
Who in pity lent us speech