Day yields to night and night to day,
Alternate, light and darkness sway;
And varied seasons still appear
Till winter terminate the year:
The sun, at mid day plac'd on high,
At eve sinks in the western sky;
The moon with borrow'd radiance shines,
And likewise in her turn declines;
Thus in each object of thy state
Behold, O man! thy mortal state.
Morn gives back splendour to the day,
Spring makes the gloom of winter gay;
Again the sun his course pursues,
Again the moon her light renews:
But man like all around him dies,

By the old white maze of swift bewildering billows
That stormed the strand;
By the old dear woods' autumnal mossy pillows,
By thy white hand;
By far streams washing tips of bended willows,
A far-off land!

By all sweet sacred memories I adjure thee,
By cliff, by star,
By maze of garden shrubs that now secure thee
Where no songs are;
By the old soft dreams that once, sweet, did allure thee,
By pain's red scar!

By all the tossing tides of bitter sorrow,
A foaming main;
By love's low whispers when he sought to borrow
New hope in vain;

I.

Yes; sweet it was. Most sweet to watch your Spanish glances
Rove o'er the Stage, and through the gauzy mazy dances:
And yet how little part
Can I have ever in thee! Thou art the Morning's daughter!
Thy laugh is as the sound of silver running water!
How little art thou akin to my worn heart!

II.

I love thee. Yes. But as the night might love the morrow;
Or as the spirit of joy might be beloved of sorrow,
So art thou loved of me!
Or as an inland stream that glances 'neath the bushes,

Where as thy minde I see doth mounte,
to buylde thy nest on hye:
I thinke it good in meaner sorte,
thy wings thou guyde to flye.
For loftie trees on Mountayne toppes,
with euery blustering blaste
Are shaken sore, when trees belowe
doe stande both firme and faste.
The Bee whose force but feeble is,
to Beastes of bigger powre:
Hir selfe doth feede with Hony sweete,
when greater taste things sowre.
Which prooues the meane with minde content,
more happy lyfe we see:
Than is to taste the sowre, and sitte

I.

For all thy youth given up to me so worn and weary,
For thy soft days of Spring given up to Winter dreary,
What shall I, love, return?
What do the black pines give to the roses in the thicket?
What doth the searcher say as swift he stoops to pick it
To the first budding fern?

II.

Thou art so young and sweet,—and all is still before thee:
The whole long summer day's unbroken blue beams o'er thee;
But as for me, for me,
My summer days are far behind yon range of mountains;

I.

The woods are no less rich for all the flowers within them,
But richer, richer far:
The pine-leaves stoop above the daisies and would win them;
They kiss each white small star.

II.

The world is no less rich for all the songs within it,
But far more heavenly-sweet.
No nightingale can hush the happy homely linnet;
God hears its soft " tweet, tweet. "

III.

The skies are no less blue because the gold stars fill them;
Nor are the hills less bright

In vain, with unremitting care,
In quest of joy we roam,
In vain we seek it ev'ry where, —
'Tis only found at home.

Dear home! of ev'ry joy the seat,
When all our toils are past,
We in thy undisturb'd retreat
Find happiness at last.

Yet, ah! how sew who prize the bliss
Domestic scenes bestow,
Prefer to ceremony ease,
And happiness to show,

To fashion's arbitrary rules
We sacrifice our ease;
To gain the suffrages of fools
Neglect ourselves to please.

Instead of nature's solid joys,

How oft I prayed to hold her in my arms
And take my fill of all her rosy charms;
And yet to-night I have her by my side
While still I faint and motionless abide.
Thou wretched soul, what ails thee!
Raise thy head,
Or else from joy be ever banished.

All ye who would wish to be happy for life,
Your happiness seek in the arms of a wife;
When Adam was made still something he wanted,
But his bliss was complete, when the woman was granted.

Our dangers she sweetens, our labours she shares,
Our pleasures enhances, and lessens our cares,
To health and success gives the relish to please,
But comforts misfortune, and softens disease.

But since, when once marry'd, you're marry'd for life,
Let prudence and love guide your choice of a wife,
Let her not be unhandsome, tho' virtuous and wise,

Good Evening, miss. Good evening, sir, to you.
And what's your name? What's your's I'd like to know?
You're rather curious, miss. You're curious, too.

Are you engaged? To anyone I please.
Then sup with me: how much? No advance fees,
To-morrow you shall pay me at your ease.

Fair terms, my charmer; now when will you come?
Just when you please. At once? Well, you are some ;
I'll tell you where I live, and you shall take me home.