A WISH. And something through the sunlight said: "Let all who love be blest! The earth is wedded to the spring And God, He knoweth best." MARY E. DODGE. A WISH. MINE be a cot beside the hill! A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow oft, beneath my thatch, Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal a welcome guest. Around my ivied porch shall spring Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; The village church, among the trees, Where first our marriage vows were given, SAMUEL ROGERS. 1.39 A DAY-DREAM. MINE eyes make pictures when they're shut: I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruined hut, And thee, and me, and Mary there. O Mary, make thy gentle lap our pillow! A wild rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree; And lo! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow : 'T was day! But now, few, large, and bright, The stars are round the crescent moon ; And now it is a dark, warm night, The balmiest of the month of June. A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting, O, ever, ever be thou blest! For dearly, Nora, love I thee. This brooding warmth across my breast- This depth of tranquil bliss — ah, me! IF I HAD THOUGHT THOU COULDST HAVE DIED. 141 Fount, tree, and shed are gone, I know not whither; The shadows dance upon the wall, By the still-dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber, moveless all; And now they melt to one deep shade. But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee. Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play; 'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow! But let me check this tender lay, Which none may hear but she and thou. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. IF I HAD THOUGHT THOU COULDST HAVE DIED. IF I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be. It never through my mind had past And thou shouldst smile no more. 142 IF I HAD THOUGHT THOU COULDST HAVE DIED. And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain. But when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid; If thou wouldst stay e'en as thou art, I still might press thy silent heart, I do not think, where'er thou art, And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart In thinking too of thee; Yet there was round thee such a dawn Of light ne'er seen before, As fancy never could have drawn, And never can restore. CHARLES WOLFE. WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. WOODMAN, spare that tree! In youth it sheltered me, That placed it near his cot; There, woodınan, let it stand: Thine axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke: Cut not its earth-bound ties. O, spare that aged oak, Now towering to the skies! When but an idle boy, My father pressed my hand. Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand. |