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"ARISE!”

[From the French.]

VICTOR HUGO.

HE dawn has awakened the skies;
Closed is thy door, O my love!

Why not awaken, O beautiful eyes?
Blue as the heavens above.

The flowers have unfolded their leaves,

Wakens the rose at my feet:

Thou art a fresh budding rose,

Why art thou sleeping, my sweet?

Wake then, O darling, with earth's fairest things, List to thy lover who watches and sings.

The world is arisen from rest,

Nature around says, "Arise!"

374

"ARISE!"

All that is brightest and best
Waits for its mirror-thine eyes.

Rosy clouds bring thee the day,
"Music is here," coos the dove;

Gifts they bring, many and rare,

Only my heart brings thee love.

Wake then, O darling, with earth's fairest things,
List to thy lover who watches and sings.

THREE KISSES.

[Imitated from the German.]

A. VON CHAMISSO.

OU little maid with golden hair,

As at my

thin grey locks you stare,

Your lisping tongue

Half asks the question which your eyes

Half mirror in their sweet surprise,
Was I once young?

Well, yes, there was a time, I think,

When even you could scarcely shrink
From saying so :

Some thought I was a handsome youth,

But then they died, in sober truth,

Long years ago.

376

THREE KISSES.

Your dimpled face, so rosy round,

Recalls, as on my knee you bound,

Another,

As fresh and fair, which some one wore.

Who was she? Why, my pet, 'twas your
Grandmother!

Once in those days I kissed her hand
(I was in love, you understand);
She married

Your grandpapa; and as for me,

A broken heart across the sea

I carried.

When I returned, your mother, sweet,

Was there my wearied steps to greet
With gladness:

But then came days of lovers' tryst ;

Her fair brow as a bride I kist

In sadness.

THREE KISSES.

Since then I've travelled far and wide,

And now you're sitting by my side,
Her daughter!

And often from your voice they ring,

The songs your mother used to sing,-
I taught her.

But as I kiss your baby lips,

And little rosy finger-tips,

My laughter

Is mingled with regret: I know
The bud will to a blossom blow,

The child must to a woman grow,
Hereafter.

377

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