THE YOUNGER SISTER.

SHE sported round him, gay and light
As summer breeze, or faery sprite;
Exchanging meek endearments now,
Now masking Love in Anger's brow:

Now startling him from grave reflection
With pretty sallies of affection,
Sweet fancies, which he wots not of:
-How lovely is a sister's love!

Oh, prize her well! for who can know In what heart-pain, what stifling woe, Her looks, her soothing words, may be The breath of inward life to thee?

Yet not for this-nay, shame on me, That I should speak such words to thee! Of thy true spirit counsel take,

And love her for her own love's sake!

SONNET.

www.

I WOKE with beating heart and throbbing brain :
The memory of that self-devoted maid,

A haunting care, upon my spirit prey'd,

And deeper thoughts, pregnant with obscure pain,
Lay like a heavy load upon my brain :

When lo a voice-'twas a light-hearted boy
Singing, still singing, at his morn's employ ;
A boy, yet delicate and soft the strain
As ever maiden sang, at twilight hour,
In pastoral cot, or stately latticed bower.
I lay and listen'd, till all thoughts of pain
And sorrow melted from me, and my mind,
To a still dream of melody resign'd,

Lay hush'd and tranquil as a summer main.

* And obscure pangs made curses of his sleep.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

*

I AM FAR FROM HER.

www

I AM far from her whom my soul loves best,
I am far from my love, and yet I am blest;
And my heart leaps in me as blithe and gay,
As the heart of a bird on a glad spring day.

For I know that my love is good and pure,
And I know that her faith is firm and sure;
A fount of truth, too deep and still

For chance to ruffle, or absence chill.

We have loved thro' want, we have loved thro'

wrong,

We have felt the blight of the slanderer's tongue; And the selfish scorner's worldly eye

Has mock'd at our calm fidelity.

But our friendship droop'd not in the shower,
For it was not the growth of a summer hour;
And the worldling's smile, and the false one's sneer,
Made each but to each more proudly dear.

Then onward, onward, in hope and joy! We are far apart, but our meeting is nigh; Our term of trial will soon be o'er,

And the true shall meet, to part no more!

HOW CAN I SING?

How can I sing? all power, all good,
The high designs and hopes of yore,
Knowledge, and faith, and love,the food
That fed the fire of song,—are o'er;

And I, in darkness and alone,

Sit cowering o'er the embers drear, Remembering how, of old, it shone A light to guide,-a warmth to cheer.

Oh! when shall care and strife be o'er,
And torn affection cease to smart;
And peace and love return once more
To cheer a sad and restless heart?

The lamp of hope is quench'd in night, And dull is friendship's soul-bright eye,

And quench'd the hearth of home-delight, And mute the voice of phantasy.

E