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Her clear, warm heaven at noon-the mist that shrouds
The glorious splendour of her sunset clouds,
Where'er his web of song her poet weaves;
And when you dream of woman, and her love;
Borne, like Loretto's chapel, through the air
To the green land I sing, then wake, you'll find them there.
ON THE DEATH OF
JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE,
OF NEW YORK, SEPT., 1820.
"The good die first,
And they, whose hearts are dry as summer dust,
GREEN be the turf above thee,
Tears fell, when thou wert dying,
ON. THE DEATH OF JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
When hearts, whose truth was proven,
Like thine, are laid in earth,
There should a wreath be woven
To tell the world their worth;
And I, who woke each morrow
Whose weal and woe were thine:
It should be mine to braid it
Around thy faded brow,
While memory bids me weep thee,
The grief is fixed too deeply
That mourns a man like thee.
THE FIRST OF MARCH.
THE bud is in the bough, and the leaf is in the bud,
The perfume and the bloom that shall decorate the flower,
How awful is the thought of the wonders underground,
The summer's in her ark, and this sunny-pinion'd day
Thou hast fann'd the sleeping Earth till her dreams are all of flowers,
The forest seems to listen for the rustle of its leaves,
Thy vivifying spell has been felt beneath the wave,
By the dormouse in its cell, and the mole within its cave;
The cattle lift their voices from the valleys and the hills,
Down the dimpled green-sward dancing
Bud-lipt boys and girls advancing,
Rows of liquid eyes in laughter,
How they glimmer, how they quiver!
Sparkling one another after,
Like bright ripples on a river.
Tipsy band of rubious faces,
Flushed with joy's ethereal spirit,
CHILDHOOD AND HIS VISITORS.
ONCE on a time, when sunny May
And smiling,-who could choose but love him? For not more glad than CHILDHOOD's brow, Was the blue heaven that beamed above him.
Old TIME, in most appalling wrath,
That valley's green repose invaded;
With curling lip, and glancing eye,
GUILT gazed upon the scene a minute,
But CHILDHOOD's glance of purity
Had such a holy spell within it,
That the dark demon to the air
Spread forth again his baffled pinion,
And hid his envy and despair,