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STANZA S.

YES! they are right, who fondly say
That pure affection never ends,

But lasts, though earth and time decay,
And lives though separation rends;
Though all she value 's snatch'd away,
Grief most laments departed friends!

For love, they tell us, is a flower

Too pure to flourish, save on high;

They say it lives its earthly hour,

In charms that fade, and tints that die,

To ripen for its heavenly bower,

And grace the gardens of the sky!

STANZA S.

THE tear that dimm'd, sweet girl, thine eye, Lay, in its orb, a moment hid;

And linger'd, as if loth to fly

The circle of its native lid.

At length, while sad and slow it left
The precincts of its crystal cell,

It seem'd a pearl, reluctant reft
From its own pure and parent shell!

THE BANKS OF LOIRE.

TO A LADY.

O, WHY art thou so far

away

From scenes to love and feeling dear

Where every object seems to say

That thou, alone, art wanting here?

For e'en in such a scene as this,

Thy presence would fresh charms inspire, Yes, thou could'st heighten e'en the bliss

Of these sweet banks! the banks of Loire !

Tis evening; and that gentle hour

For me hath charms, of blest control;

And every spell of holiest power

Hath, then, its influence o'er my soul.

And oft, in many a twilight dream
My musing spirit shall retire,

And love to haunt this fairy stream,

And these sweet banks! the banks of Loire !

THE BANKS OF LOIRE.

'Tis evening now; but such an eve,

So calm, so cloudless, and so pure,
As ruder climes can scarce conceive,
Where envious mists yon orb obscure.
But here with radiance bright as noon,
The monarch sets, in floods of fire,

Yet lingers, loth to leave so soon

These beauteous banks! the banks of Loire !

'Tis evening; but the fall of night

Sinks softly on a scene so rare,
The skies smile down in looks of light,
And earth returns a smile as fair.

The winds have sung themselves to rest,
The very zephyrs all expire;

As hush'd upon the river's breast,

They kiss the banks, the banks of Loire!

'Tis evening, and meek twilight throws Soft shades o'er river, vale, and hill,

And Nature sinks in sweet repose,

And all is beauteous! all is still!

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THE BANKS OF LOIRE.

Save that with oft-repeated lays,

The warblers, in their evening choir, Unite their music, in the praise

Of these fair banks, the banks of Loire !

'Tis evening; and this smiling scene
Hath never smiled so sweet before,
These vine-clad hills, those meadows green,
Yon silver stream, and fairy shore,
Are they not all we dream of Heaven?
O say, can mortal hopes aspire

Beyond the Paradise that's given

On these fair banks, the banks of Loire ?

'Tis evening; by the twilight gleam,

A

I see a bright, and a fairy isle,

gem amid that silver stream,

A dimple on that river's smile! And I would claim, for us, that spot,

For what could love itself require?

But just the space to build a cot

On these fair banks, the banks of Loire !

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