V. Suppose a billet-doux (in rhyme), - That Cytherea's can't transcend it, — VI. But what if, seemingly afraid To bind her fate in Hymen's fetter, She vow she means to die a maid, In answer to my loving letter? Quoth Echo, rather coolly: "Let her !" VII. What if, in spite of her disdain, VIII. But if some maid with beauty blest, As pure and fair as Heaven can make her, Will share my labor and my rest, Till envious Death shall overtake her? Quoth Echo (sotto voce): "Take her!" THE MAIDEN TO THE MOON.* MOON! did you see In the valley beneath the sycamore-tree? O Moon! don't tell - 'T was nothing amiss, you know very well! O Moon! - you know, A long time ago You left the sky and descended below, By your own sweet light, To meet your ENDYMION on Latmos height. And there, O Moon! You gave him a boon, You would n't, I'm sure, have granted at.noon; 'T was nothing amiss, Some churlish lout, Who was spying about, Went off and blabbed — and so it got out; But for all the gold The sea could hold, O Moon! - I would n't have gone and told ! My lover and me in the leafy dell; And, remember, too, We only behaved like your lover and you! DAISY DAY. A REMINISCENCE OF TRAVEL. T was in an Irish city, IT In the pleasant month of May, From Columbia's troubled shore, Love of country – so despotic Straying on a foreign strand; Bless me! how all eyes were centred Like a queen upon the floor! Wafted by the breath of Heaven, Suddenly had filled the room! Happy favorite of Nature, More than Juno in her grace, Pardon one pathetic sigh; She's the "partner" of another, But a poet owes to Beauty More than common men can pay, And I've done my simple duty, Singing thus of Daisy Day! TO A BEAUTIFUL STRANGER. A GLANCE, a smile, I see it yet! A moment ere the train was starting; How strange to tell! we scarcely met, And yet I felt a pang at parting! And you (alas! that all the while I only know those beaming rays Ah! many a heart as stanch as this, And so, 't is well the train's swift flight -- And me, as quickly, out of danger! A PHILOSOPHICAL QUERY. то F Virtue be measured by what we resist, IF When against Inclination we strive, You and I have been proved, we may fairly insist, The most virtuous mortals alive! Now Virtue, we know, is the brightest of pearls, Should we envy, or pity, the stoical churls |