Lays Of Ancient Virginia, And Other Poems Part 24

Stay now with me; no more through all the years, Wilt thou and I, O glorious friend! be parted; Or, if e'er so, my overflowing tears, Will prove that I am grieved, or broken-hearted.

Yes stay, and I shall haste to thy converse, With full delight, at rosiate morn, calm even, And I shall dream of rich and golden verse From angel lyres within the bowers of Heaven.

I LOVE THEE.

I love thee--oh! I love thee, With fervor, deep and wild, Thy beauty's charm most strangely, My spirit hath beguiled.

I love thee--oh! I love thee, The Spring's first, freshest flower, Comes not across my spirit, With such a holy power.

I love thee--oh! I love thee, The fibres of my heart Are closely twined about thee, As if by magic art.

I see thee--oh! I see thee, In the sunbeam, in the bud, In all that's fair in nature, In all that's bright and good.

I hear thee--oh! I hear thee, In the melting music-words, That swell, at joyous morning, From the woodland choir of birds.

I crave thee--oh! I crave thee, Thou angel sent from G.o.d!

To beautify the pathway, Which must by me be trod.

I love thee--oh! I love thee!

And, dearest, I implore, That bliss may still await thee, On Heaven's far brighter sh.o.r.e.

ON ----.

A brainless beauty, a would-be coquette, A brow of marble, but a heart of jet; An eye that shows no vestige of the deep And stained thoughts that in her bosom sleep: By day a vestal, but by night a bawd; Her ways a riddle, her whole life a fraud; At church an angel, but at home a shrew, Cheating her mother, to her sire untrue; Vain without talent, without merit proud; By all who see her, still a fool allow'd; Without all love, with but the show of truth, She stares and simpers at the scornful youth; Or ambling loosely on the village street, While strangers sneer upon the fool they meet: She lives and moves the true epitome And climax of all d----mn'd Hypocrisy.

Here I enshrine her, where all time shall see Her name preserv'd in deathless infamy.

SERENADE.

Far o'er the landscape green, The moonlight like a lake, Lies; 'tis a lovely scene, To bid my lady wake; My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake!

The night is rich with smells, Like thoughts from heart of love, Wafted from flower bells, On unseen wings above; My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake!

The Nightingale, a wo!

Within the grove complains!-- The stars are coming low To hear her killing strains!

My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake!

O see! my lady, far Beyond yon western steeps, The moon, with one white star, In paly parting, weeps: My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake!

Before the envious day, Shall gaze upon thy charms; Come, lady, come away, And rest lock'd in these arms!

My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake!

Oh lady, see! the moon Her silver chariot stops, (A list'ning to my tune,) On yonder green oak-tops!

My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake!

My song can make her pause, But wake and doff that frown, Nor man's, nor G.o.d's great laws, Forbid thee to look down: My lady, lady, wake, Wake, oh! wake.

THE OLD MILL WHEEL.

The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns Throughout the livelong day, And flings the current of the stream, Abroad in glist'ning spray: That old, black wheel has turn'd for years, Beside the mossy mill, That stands, like some old, sacred thing, Beneath the clay-red hill.

The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns Like time's unresting one, Which day and night, and night and day, Hath never ceased to run: The old mill-wheel, an emblem true, Of Time that ne'er stands still, I love to see it turning so, Beside the mossy mill.

The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns, As in my childhood's hour;-- As when I bathed beneath its rim, In its refreshing shower: But they who were my comrades then, Are sleeping on the hill, And now, to them, forever now, The old Mill-wheel stands still.

SERENADE.

How sombre is the gloom!

I see no beam of star, Gleam o'er the garden's bloom, Or silent wood afar; So dark the thoughts which shroud His soul who sings to thee; Oh lady, cold and proud; Who scorn'st to think on me; Lady, lady, wake!

List oh! list.

The firefly lights the night, A moment and then dies; The lilacs pine for light, With sweet and odorous sighs: So Hope's deceitful beam, Illumines my despair, While I still sigh and dream, With many a sobbing prayer, Lady, lady, list!

List and smile!

Lo! now the clouds break off, And heaven once more is free; The mounts their garments doff, The mists rise from the sea; From yonder cas.e.m.e.nt high She looks, she looks, oh see!

She bends on me her eye Of heavenly brilliancy: Lady, lady, dear; Lady dear!

VIRGINIA HOME OF HONOR.

Oh, home of honor, native land, When roaming o'er the sea, The eye still turns, the heart still yearns, O dearest home, for thee.

When ranged around the social board, We bid our sorrows flee, We own a pride that we are sons, O dearest home, of thee.

If earth retains one single draught Of pure and tranquil joy, Within whose sweet and sparkling wave, Is mixt no sad alloy; 'Tis here we taste it while we sit, Beneath our natal tree, 'Tis here it glads our heart of hearts, O dearest home, with thee.

When we are cast on foreign sh.o.r.es, Beyond the dark-blue sea, Sad memory oft returns to weep, O dearest home, with thee, And when the knell of death shall come, And set our spirits free, Our hearts shall find their sweetest rest, O dearest home, with thee.