English

AN ANTICIPATION OF THE CHOLERA, JANUARY, 1848.

Dense on the stream the vapors lay,
Thick as wool on the cold highway;
Spongy and dim each lonely lamp
Shone o'er the streets so dull and damp;
The moonbeam could not pierce the cloud
That swathed the city like a shroud.
There stood three Shapes on the bridge alone,
Three figures by the coping stone!
Gaunt, and tall, and undefined,
Spectres built of mist and wind;
Changing ever in form and height,
But black and palpable to sight.

D ENNIS was hearty when Dennis was young,
High was his step in the jig that he sprung,
He had the looks an' the sootherin' tongue—
—An' he wanted a girl wid a fortune.

Nannie was gray-eyed an' Nannie was tall,
Fair was the face hid inunder her shawl,
Troth! an' he liked her the best o' them all—
—But she'd not a traneen to her fortune.

He be to look out for a likelier match,
So he married a girl that was counted a catch,
An' as ugly as need be, the dark little patch—
—But that was a trifle, he told her.

Delightful I think it to be in the bosom of an isle, on the peak of a rock, that I might often see there the calm of the sea.

That I might see its heavy waves over the glittering ocean, as they chant a melody to their Father on their eternal course.

That I might see its smooth strand of clear headlands, no gloomy thing; that I might hear the voice of the wondrous birds, a joyful course.

That I might hear the sound of the shallow waves against the rocks; that I might hear the cry by the graveyard, the noise of the sea.

Delightful , book, your trip
to her of the ringlet head,
a pity it's not you
that's pining, I that sped.

To go, book, where she is
delightful trip in sooth!
the bright mouth red as blood
you'll see, and the white tooth.

You'll see that eye that's grey
the docile palm as well,
with all that beauty you
(not I, alas) will dwell.

You'll see the eyebrow fine
the perfect throat's smooth gleam,
and the sparkling cheek I saw
latterly in a dream.

The lithe good snow-white waist

Deer are on the mountain, deer!
A hunter spied one browsing near
And the little girl who lives below
Saw beside her cabbage-field a running doe.
But I have never seen them though I used to wait
And wander, and come home weary and late.
No, I have never seen them stand a-quiver,
Then turn and bound and go,
Nor have I started as they loomed above me,
Sudden, bright, upon a hill,
Nor turned to find them, kneeling, breathless, still.
But now — at last — I know you love me,
For now at last I know

I

D EEP music of the ancient forest!
Through glades and coverts with thy magic winding;
And in the silence of our hushed hearts finding
Tremulous echoes of thy murmur,
Unshapen thoughts thronging and throbbing:
O music of the mystery, that embraces
All forest depths, and footless far-off places!
Thou art the most high voice of nature,
Thou art the voice of unseen singers,

Deep into the midst of a great, dark, wood,
Where shades are ever staying,
I found a snail, at the root of an oak,
One day, as I was maying;
And I said, " Oh stupid snail, so weak,
What moral high, canst thy poor life teach? "

And methought, the snail answered thus from his shell,
" Oh maid! list to my teaching;
Cautiously taking full time as I to,
I'm spared of over-reaching;
If you too, like me would take life more slow,
You truly would be benefited, I know. "

Deep in this grave her bones remain,
She's sleeping on, bereft of pain,
Her tongue in silence now does sleep,
And she no more time's call can greet.

She liv'd as all God's saints should do,
Resign'd to death and suffering too;
She feels not pain or sin oppress,
Nor does of worldly cares possess.

White were the locks that thinly shed
Their snows around her honor'd head,
And furrows not to be effac'd
Had age amid her features trac'd.

I said, my sister, DO tread light,

Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove,
Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet with falling dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
Far down in the green and glassy brine.
The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,
And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow;
From coral rocks the sea plants lift
Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow;
The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and waves are absent there,

Deep in the hill the gold sand burned;
The brook ran yellow with its gleams;
Close by, the seekers slept, and turned
And tossed in restless dreams.

At dawn they waked. In friendly cheer
Their dreams they told, by one, by one;
And each man laughed the dreams to hear,
But sighed when they were done.

Visions of golden birds that flew,
Of golden cloth piled fold on fold,
Of rain which shone, and filtered through
The air in showers of gold;

Visions of golden bells that rang,