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TO MARY.

I.

My Muse hath long with silence dwelt,

My harp been long unstrung;
I cannot feel as I have felt,

Nor sing as I have sung.
E'en to the verge of middle age
I've brought my earthly pilgrimage,—

My heart's no longer young;
And, sooth, 'tis time, at twenty-seven,
My Muse should be the bride of Heaven.

ii. Yet, Mary, ere I cease to float

For aye on Fancy's sea,
I'll freight once more my " crescent boat,"

With fairy gifts for thee:
And thou, I trust, wilt not despise
Such scant and sorry merchandize,

Unworthy though it be
Of him, who, in his better day,
Was rich in rhyme and roundelay.

In.
But if my lyre hath now decay'd,

"Tis not from age alone:—
Sore havoc with its strings was made,

Ere yet my youth was flown:
And haply, Mary, thou canst tell

Of one who nursed my fancy well,

And rear'd it with his own,
'Till discord fell 'twixt him and me,
And left me—what I now must be.
IV.

My heart hath found a resting-place

Since then, at love's sweet shrine; And he, now freed from grief's embrace,

Shall soon repose in thine.—
A patient fight ye both have fought,
To which shall fond and fervent thought

Look back in life's decline,
When youthful passion's reign is o'er,
And fancy's dreams delude no more.

v.
'Twill be a joy, in after years,

That I've beheld thy face; Have seen thee in thy smiles and tears,

Thy goodness and thy grace; That I shall know, whate'er betide, How lovely and how loved a bride

My friend's fond arms embrace; What beauty, worth, and talent shed Their brightness on his nuptial bed.

VI.

And though beneath remoter skies

Our lot must now be cast;
Though different cares and sympathies

Round each must gather fast;
Though brief the computation be

Of future hours which ye and we

Together shall have past;
And feelings, now too deep for tears,
Must perish in the wear of years;—

VII.

Yet still, in feeling's late decline,

When Hope and Fancy flee,
'Twixt thee and me, 'twixt thine and mine,

A bond of love must be:
And though a month hath scantly flown
Since first our friendship's seed was sown,

I trust no time shall see
Our souls bereft of thoughts like these,
And yet more dear remembrances.

Plymouth, September 1, 1827.

"FORGET THEE?"

"Forget thee?"—If to dream by night, and muse

on thee by day;

If all the worship,deep and wild, a poet's heart can pay, If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to Heaven's

protecting power, If winged thoughts that flit to thee—a thousand in

an hour,

If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot,— If thisthoucall'st" forgetting," thou,indeed shaltbe

forgot!

"Forget thee ?"—Bid the forest-birds forget their sweetest tune;

"Forget thee ?"—Bid the sea forget to swell beneath the moon;

Bid the thirsty flowers forget to drink the eve's refreshing dew;

Thyself forget thine " own dear land," and its "mountains wild and blue;"

Forget each old familiar face, each long remember'd spot;—

When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shall be forgot!

Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace, still calm and

fancy-free: For, God forbid! thy gladsome heart should grow

less glad for me; Yet, while that heart is still unwon, oh,bidnot mine

to rove, But let it nurse its humble faith, and uncomplaining

love; Ifthese, preserved forpatient years, at last avail me

not, Forget me then;—but ne'er believe that thou can'st

be forgot!

February 14,1825.

EPITAPH IN WINDSOR CHURCH-YARD.

FEBRUARY 20, 1828.

Bright, tho' brief, were thy days on earth,
For the light of genius crown'd thee;

And we blessed thee for the sinless mirth
Which thy presence pour'd around thee.

Darkly the cloud of sickness came

And we saw thy beauty smitten; And our weak hearts droop'd,tho' we knew thy name

In the Book of Life was written.

But oh! as we knelt by thy dying bed

And pray'd in vain to save thee,
By thy faith in Christ we were comforted,

And the strength His Spirit gave thee.

Sadly we turn from thy resting-place

To the cold, hard world about us,
And gird our loins for the Christian race,

Which thou hast won without us.

And we raise to Heaven our tearful eyes,

And feel thou watchest o'er us, • And shinest like a star from thine own bright skies

On the path thou hast trod before us.

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