SISTER! SINCE I MET THEE LAST.

SISTER! Since I met thee last,

O'er thy brow a change hath past,

In the softness of thine eyes,
Deep and still a shadow lies

From thy voice there thrills a tone,
Never to thy childhood known;

Thro' thy soul a storm hath moved,
-Gentle sister, thou hast loved!

Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught
Hues too bright from troubled thought;

Far along the wandering stream,

Thou art followed by a dream;

In the woods and vallies lone

Music haunts thee not thine own:

Wherefore fall thy tears like rain?
Sister, thou hast loved in vain !

On

Tell me not the tale, my flower! my bosom pour that shower! Tell me not of kind thoughts wasted;

Tell me not of young hopes blasted ;
Wring not forth one burning word,

Let thy heart no more be stirred!
Home alone can give thee rest.

-Weep, sweet sister, on my breast!

THE LONELY BIRD.

From a ruin thou art singing,
Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

The soft blue air is ringing,

By thy summer music stirr'd;

But all is dark and cold beneath,

Where harps no more are heard : Whence winn'st thou that exulting breath, Oh! lonely, lonely bird?

Thy song flows richly swelling,
To a triumph of glad sounds,
As from its cavern dwelling

A stream in glory bounds!

Tho' the castle echoes catch no tone

Of human step or word,

Tho' the fires be quenched and the feasting done,

Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

How can that flood of gladness

Rush thro' thy fiery lay,

From the haunted place of sadness,

From the bosom of decay?

While dirge-notes in the breeze's moan,

Thro' the ivy garlands heard,

Come blent with thy rejoicing tone,

Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

There's many a heart, wild singer,

Like thy forsaken tower,

Where joy no more may linger,

Where love hath left his bower:

THE LONELY BIRD.

And there's many a spirit e'en like thee,

To mirth as lightly stirr'd,

Tho' it soar from ruins in its glee,

Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

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