EXAUDI ANGELUS.

HEAR thou my prayer, O angel kind!

Who brought my gladdened eyes to see Him whom so long I yearned to find,

And gave his dear heart all to me; O, guard him well, that I may prove Blest in my lover and my love.

And keep thou her whose fearful breast
Still trembles for its new-found joy,
(Knowing, ah me! but little rest!)

Lest envious maids or gods destroy
This wondrous happiness — that seems
Too bright for aught save angel dreams.

--

O, bless us twain ! and kindly teach;
And safely guard each hallowed name
From blighting hint or blasting speech

To make our cheeks all red for shame,
That blush not for the love they bear
In thy pure presence, angel fair.

And while, with lips that closer cling
In dread to part, we say "Farewell! "

Keep thou this love a holy thing

That in us evermore may dwell,

By circling hearth or sundering sea,
Where'er our thankful hearts may be !

CARL AND I.

HE calls me beautiful; and I

Ask of my glass the reason why;
Alack for me!

And yet though little there I see,
I must be beautiful, I trow,
When such as he can deem me so.

He calls me brilliant; all in vain
I strive the wonder to explain;
Alack for me!

And yet, whate'er my fancy be,
Some spark of wit therein must glow
When such as he can think it so.

He calls me noble; and I turn.
My soul within my soul to learn;
Alack for me!

I am not proud of what I see;
And yet some goodness there must grow,
When such as he can find it so.

He calls me lovely; and I try
To seek the specious reason why;
Alack for me!

And yet though vain my question be,
I must be lovely — well I know-
When such as he can love me so!

DO I LOVE THEE?

A SONG.

OI love thee? Ask the bee

Do

If she loves the flowery lea
Where the honeysuckle blows
And the fragrant clover grows?
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.

Do I love thee? Ask the bird
When her matin song is heard,
If she loves the sky so fair,
Fleecy cloud and liquid air?
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.

Do I love thee? Ask the flower
If she loves the vernal shower,
Or the kisses of the sun,
Or the dew, when day is done?
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.

THE LOVER'S CONFESSION.

‘OME, name my fault!” I said, “that I

"COM

May mend it." So I made reply

To Laura, darling of my heart,

Whom long, in vain, by every art

I tried to force to franker speech.
"Do tell me plainly, I beseech,
For my soul's sake, that while I live
I may repent and Heaven forgive!
"'T is worldliness!" at last she said,
And, blushing, drooped her lovely head,
As if she feared I might infer
She meant forgetfulness of her!
"And is that all?" I answered. "Well,
I own the world's enchanting spell;
The fault is one I cannot hide;
But ah! 't is not for you to chide;
Still, dearest, let me worldly be,
Since you are 'all the world' to me!”

DE MUSA.

"WRITE' a poem - solemn — earnest —

Worthy of your muse !

Ah! when loving lips command me,

How can I refuse?

But the subject!

that's the pother —

What am I to choose?

War? The theme is something hackneyed;

Since old Homer's time,

Half the minstrels - large and little

Have been making rhyme

With intent to prove that murder

(Wholesale) is sublime!

Love? A most delicious topic;

But how many score,

Nay, how many thousand poets

Deal in Cupid's lore,
From Anacreon to Catullus,

Not to mention Moore.

Grief? Ah! little joy has Sorrow
In the mimic art;

Can the lyre's melodious moaning
Ease the mourner's smart,

Though the strings were very fibres
Of the player's heart?

Nature, posies, woods and waters?
Everlasting themes,—
Can the poets, in the rapture

Of their finest dreams,

Paint the lily of the valley
Fairer than she seems?

Metaphysics? Quite in fashion, –
But Apollo's curse

Blasts the syllogistic rhymer;

Why should I rehearse

Kant in cantos, · or old Plato

Torture into verse?

Humor, satire, fun and fancy,

Wit with wisdom blent,

These to give my Muse amusement

Heaven has kindly lent;

Let her live and die a-laughing;

I shall be content!