Farewell my youthful loves, 'tis vain
To cast the reckoning of loss and gain:
Those pleasures fugitive
I take not now nor give.
A fairer image fills my heart,
A love where boyhood's fancies have no part;
Escaped from their strong hold
I fly the loves of old.

April's amazing meaning doubtless lies
In tall, hoarse boys and slips
Of slender girls with suddenly wider eyes
And parted lips;

For girls must wander pensive in the spring
When the green rain is over,
Doing some slow inconsequential thing,
Plucking clover;

And any boy alone upon a bench
When his work's done will sit
And stare at the black ground and break a branch
And whittle it

Slowly; and boys and girls, irresolute,
Will curse the dreamy weather
Until they meet past the pale hedge and put
Their lips together.

Thrice happy man! who fears the Lord,
Loves his command, and trusts his word;
Honor and peace his days attend,
And blessings on his seed descend.

Compassion dwells within his mind,
To works of mercy still inclin'd;
He lends the poor some present aid,
Or gives them not to be repaid.

His soul, well-fix'd upon the Lord,
Draws heav'nly courage from his word;
Amid the darkness light shall rise,
To cheer his heart, and bless his eyes.

He hath dispers'd his alms abroad,
His works are still before his God;

TO THE HON. SIR RICHARD LYTTLETON .

The morn dispensed a dubious light,
A sudden mist had stolen from sight
Each pleasing vale and hill;
When Damon left his humble bowers,
To guard his flocks, to fence his flowers,
Or check his wandering rill.

Though school'd from Fortune's paths to fly,
The swain beneath each lowering sky
Would oft his fate bemoan,
That he, in sylvan shades forlorn,
Must waste his cheerless even and morn,

I.

Over purple leagues of shadowy water,
Heedless now of starshine or of storm,
Watched and wept for by a Sovereign's daughter,
Comes the relic of a princely form
Now from wave to wave in silence springing,
Not with sounds of battle or of glee,
Glides a lonely ghostlike vessel, bringing
Fever's victim o'er the lonely sea.

II.

Not for love of fame or lust of glory,
Not to gain an earthly conqueror's crown,

Blest is the man, whose heart expands,
At melting pity's call,
And the rich blessings of whose hands
Like heav'nly manna fall.

Mercy, descending from above,
In softest accents pleads;
Oh! may each tender bosom move,
When mercy intercedes.

Almighty God! thy influence shed
To aid this good design:
The honors of thy name be spread,
And be the glory thine.

Dost thou remember me? It matters not!
My heart revisits every spot
Which, sweetheart, we have trodden together
In this blue perfect summer weather.

Dost thou remember me? Wilt thou forget?
Mine is the deep regret;
Mine is the undying pain. It sometimes seems
That love comes only in dreams!

Wilt thou remember? Will thy girl's heart keep
Treasured in store-house safe and deep,
Soft memories of the days soon-dying
Before love's laughter changed to sighing?

Wilt thou remember? Must it only be

The broad blue sky above me,
The sunshine on the corn
(Oh, had I you to love me,
This perfect August morn!)
Green tall trees overslanting,
With sunlight flashing through
(And yet one thing was wanting;
My heart cried out for you!)

Oh, were you with me, darling,
This perfect summer day,
Its glory were completer
Than tongue of man might say.
The green trees of the forest,
The bright flowers of the dell,
All longed for you, my darling;
And oh, I longed as well!

And then the eve came slowly:

Lysidicë doth bring to thee,
Dear Cyprian, the goad
Wherewith she won the mastery
When she on horseback rode,
And on her comely leg did wear
This cunning piece of golden gear.

On her no spur was ever used
To reach her journey's end,
Her tender thighs were scarcely bruised,
So lightly did she bend;
And now she hangs within thy fane
The tool she ne'er will need again.

I.

Lo! another mighty century dying
Bears to deathland many a hero's form:
Some who saw Napoleon's banners flying;
Some who faced red Alma's leaden storm.
Yet in passing towards the shadowy portal
Fleeting years with fiery tongues proclaim,
" Ages wane, but England is immortal;
Deathless through each unforgotten name. "

II.

Deathless through her children crowned and deathless,