No, that hallowed form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.

'Twas odor fled

As soon as shed;

'Twas morning's winged dream;
'Twas a light, that ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:

Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.

THE PRINCE'S DAY.

THOUGH dark are our sorrows, to-day we'll forget them,
And smile through our tears, like a sunbeam in showers:

There never were hearts, if our rulers would let them,
More formed to be grateful and blest than ours.
But just when the chain

Has ceased to pain,

And hope has enwreathed it round with flowers,

There comes a new link

Our spirits to sink—

Oh! the joy that we taste, like the light of the poles,
Is a flash amid darkness, too brilliant to stay;
But, though 'twere the last little spark in our souls,
We must light it up now, on our Prince's Day.

THE PRINCE'S DAY.

155

Contempt on the minion who calls you disloyal!

Though fierce to your foe, to your
friends you are true;
And the tribute most high to a head that is royal,

Is love from a heart that loves liberty too.
While cowards, who blight

Your fame, your right,

Would shrink from the blaze of the battle array,
The standard of Green

In front would be seen

Oh ! my life on your

faith! were you summoned this minute,

You'd cast every bitter remembrance away, And show what the arm of old Erin has in it, When roused by her foe, on her Prince's Day.

He loves the Green Isle, and his love is recorded
In hearts which have suffered too much to forget;
And hope shall be crowned, and attachment rewarded,
And Erin's gay jubilee shine out yet.

The gem may be broke

By many a stroke,

But nothing can cloud its native ray;

Each fragment will cast

A light to the last

And thus, Erin, my country, though broken thou art,
There's a lustre within thee that ne'er will decay;
A spirit which beams through each suffering part,
And now smiles at all pain on the Prince's Day.

LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE.

LESBIA hath a beaming eye,

But no one knows for whom it beameth; Right and left its arrows fly,

But what they aim at no one dreameth. Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon

My Nora's lid that seldom rises;

Few its looks, but every one,

Like unexpected light, surprises.
Oh, my Nora Creina, dear,

My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,
Beauty lies

In many eyes,

But love in yours, my Nora Creina!

Lesbia wears a robe of gold,

But all so close the nymph hath laced it,

Not a charm of beauty's mould

Presumes to stay where nature placed it.

Oh, my Norah's gown for me,

That floats as wild as mountain breezes,

Leaving every beauty free

To sink or swell as Heaven pleases.

Yes, my Nora Creina, dear,

My simple, graceful Nora Creina,

Nature's dress

Is loveliness

The dress you wear, my Nora Creina.

BESIDE THE SEA..

THEY walked beside the Summer sea,
And watched the slowly dying sun;
And "Oh," she said, "come back to me !
My love, my own, my only one !"
But while he kissed her fears away

The gentle waters kissed the shore,

And, sadly whispering, seemed to say,

"He'll come no more! he'll come no more!"

Alone beside the Autumn sea

She watched the somber death of day;
And "Oh," she said, "remember me !
And love me, darling, far away!"
A cold wind swept the watery gloom,

And, darkly whispering on the shore,

Sighed out the secret of his doom,

In

"He'll come no more! he'll come no more!"

peace beside the Winter sea

A white grave glimmers in the moon ; And waves are fresh, and clouds are free, And shrill winds pipe a careless tune. One sleeps beneath the dark blue wave, And one upon the lonely shore; But joined in love, beyond the grave, They part no more! they part no more! WILLIAM WINTER.