And when, in other climes, we meet To live and die in scenes like this, As travellers oft look back at eve Still faint behind them glowing, THOMAS MOORE. ADIEU, ADIEU! MY NATIVE SHORE. ADIEU, adieu! my native shore The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, We follow in his flight; A few short hours, and he will rise But not my mother earth. Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME. NEGRO SONG. BYRON. THE sun shines bright in our old Kentucky home; 'Tis summer, the darkeys are gay; The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day; The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy, all bright; By 'm by hard times comes a knockin' at the door,Then, my old Kentucky home, good night! CHORUS. Weep no more, my lady; 0, weep no more today! We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For our old Kentucky home far away. Should her lineaments resemble Those thou nevermore mayst see, All my faults perchance thou knowest, Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee, by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now; But 't is done; all words are idle, Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will. FAREWELL! THOU ART TOO DEAR. FAREWELL thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine Are as cold as that lonely river; And now on the midnight sky I look, Some tale of that loved one keeping. But the odor and bloom of those bygone years But, with her heart, if not her ear, The old loved voice she seemed to hear: "I wait to meet thee: be of cheer, For all is well!" JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. TO LUCASTA. IF to be absent were to be Or that, when I am gone, Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blustering wind or swallowing wave. But I'll not sigh one blast or gale Or pay a tear to 'suage The foaming blue-god's rage; For, whether he will let me pass Or no, I'm still as happy as I was. Though seas and lands be 'twixt us both, Our faith and troth, Like separated souls, All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meet, Unseen, unknown; and greet as angels greet. So, then, we do anticipate Our after-fate, And are alive i' th' skies, their earthly bodies left behind. COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE. I LOVE MY JEAN. OF a' the airts the wind can blaw, For there the bonnie lassie lives, There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And monie a hill's between ; I see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air; There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green; There's not a bonnie bird that sings, ROBERT BURNS. The points of the compass. LOVE'S MEMORY. FROM "ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL," ACT I. SC. 1. I AM undone there is no living, none, SHAKESPEARE. O, SAW YE BONNIE LESLEY? O, SAW ye bonnie Lesley As she gaed o'er the border? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, And love but her forever; Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee. Or aught that wad belang thee; He'd look into thy bonnie face, And say, "I canna wrang thee!" The Powers aboon will tent thee; Misfortune sha' na steer thee; Thou 'rt like themselves sae lovely That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. Return again, fair Lesley, Return to Caledonie ! ROBERT BURNS. JEANIE MORRISON. I'VE wandered east, I've wandered west, But never, never can forget • Harm. |