90

TO A FRIEND.

Is there nought left then, loveliness to lend
Unto the spot my memory loves to trace ?
Should I now find, were I to come and spend
A day with you, no beauty left to grace
What seemed of quiet joy the dwelling-place?
Oh yes! believe me, much as I admired
Those charms which change of seasons can efface,
It was not such alone, when home retir'd,

That memory cherish'd most, or most the muse inspired.

When nature sheds her leafy loveliness,

She does not die: her vital principle
But seeks awhile its innermost recess,
And there securely finds a citadel
Which even winter owns impregnable;
The sap retreating downward to the root
Is still alive, as spring shall shortly tell,

By swelling buds, whence blossoms soon will shoot

Dispensing fragrance round, and pledge of future

fruit.

And thus our best affections, those which bind
Heart unto heart by friendship's purest tie,
Have an internal life, and are enshrined

Too deeply in our bosoms soon to die.

Spring's opening bloom, and summer's azure sky, Might borrow from them beauties not their own; But when November winds are loud and high,

TO A FRIEND.

91

And nature's dirge assumes its deepest tone, The joy of social hours in its full charm is known. For as the sap, whose quickening influence

Shall be in spring the birth of future flowers, Confined and concentrated, is from thence

More full of life, than in those brighter hours When birds sang sweetly in their shady bowers, And all unclouded was heaven's vaulted dome; Thus is it with the mind's electric powers,

Forbid by winter's frowning skies to roam, Their radiance is condensed, their focus found at home.

Then stir the cheerful fire! and let its light

The rallying point of home-born pleasures be; Where spirit-sparkling eyes, and smiles as bright, Their own fit einblem may delighted see; And let the overflow of innocent glee

Be like the exuberance of the Nile, and bless The seeds of future joy's fertility;

That days, in years to come, may bear the im

press

Of hours of blameless bliss and social happiness.

Since such, dear friend! is the delightful season
When thou wast born, oh! let it, as it ought,
Be kept with due observance, for that reason;
Not lighted up with borrow'd splendor caught
From outward themes, which time or chance may
thwart :

92

TO A SISTER.

But be its zest those charms that have their flow Fresh from the source of feeling and of thought; And full of all that pure and vivid glow

Which speaks them born above, though spent on earth below.

BARTON.

TO A SISTER.

My sister, companion and friend,
The guide of my devious way,
May a song of affection attend

The return of this festival day!
We are friends by the earliest choice-
Our union in childhood began-
And still we can weep, or rejoice,
In unison only, my Ann.

While many in solitude walk,
Together we travel along;

Or hang like twin buds on a stalk,

(We may call ourselves flowers in song.) The showers that kindly descend,

Have nourished us both as they passed;

And together we shiver and bend,

Assailed by the winterly blast.

ТО А SISTER.

But let every sigh be repressed,

Since mutual our pleasures must be :

The ivy that clings to its breast

Is reckoned a part of the tree. And oh! may we never divide,

Till closed is this turbulent day. Should I lose you, my sister and guide, How dreary the rest of the way! JANE TAYLOR.

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DEAR TO MEMORY.

OH! DEAR TO MEMORY ARE
THOSE HOURS.

OH! dear to memory are those hours
When every pathway led to flowers;
When sticks of peppermint possessed
A sceptre's power o'er the breast,
And heaven was round us while we fed
On rich ambrosial gingerbread.

I bless the days of infancy,

When, stealing from a mother's eye,
Elysian happiness was found

On that celestial field, the ground.

Then shone the meteor days of youth,
Eclipsing quite the lamp of truth;

And precious, bright those sunbeams were
That dried all tears, dispersed all care;
That shed a stream of golden joy,
Without one atom of alloy.

Oh! ne'er in mercy strive to chase
Such dazzling phantoms from their place;
However trifling, mean, or wild,

The deeds may seem of youth or child,
While they still leave untarnished soul,
The iron rod of stern control

Should be but gentle in its sway,
Nor rend the magic veil away.