The Broken Heart.

    Oh think not with love’s soft token,
    Or music my heart to thrill—­
    For its strings—­its strings are broken,
    And the chords would fain be still!

    Oh think not to waken the measure
    Of joy on a ruined lute—­
    Think not to waken pleasure,
    Where grief sits mourning and mute.

    The pearls that gleam in the billow,
    But darken the gloom of the deep—­
    And laughter plants the pillow
    With thorns, where sorrow would sleep.

    The gems that gleam on the finger
    Of her who is sleeping and cold,
    But wring the hearts that linger. 
    And dream of the love they told.

    My bosom is but a grave,
    My breast a voiceless choir—­
    Speak not to the echoless cave,
    Touch not the broken lyre!

The Star Of The West.

I.

    The cannon is mute and the sword in its sheath—­
    Uncrimsoned the banner floats joyous and fair: 
    Yet beauty is twining an evergreen wreath,
    And the voice of the minstrel is heard on the air. 
    Are these for the glory encircling a crown—­
    A phantom evoked but by tyranny’s breath? 
    Are these for the conqueror’s vaunted renown—­
    All ghastly with gore, and all tainted with death? 
    Bright Star of the West—­broad Land of the Free,
    The wreath and the anthem are woven for thee!

II.

    When Tyranny came, his fierce lions aloft
    Told the instinct that burned in his cohorts of mail—­
    But our eagles swooped down, and the battle-field oft,
    Was the grave of the foeman,—­stern, ghastly and pale. 
    The cloud of the strife rolled darkly away—­
    And the carnage-fed wolves slunk back to their den—­
    While Peace shone around like the god of the day,
    And shed her blest light on the children of men. 
    Bright Star of the West—­broad Land of the Free! 
    The wreath and the anthem are woven for thee!

III.

    Thus Liberty dawned from the midnight of years;
    And here rose her altar.  Oh kneel at her shrine! 
    Her blessings unnumbered—­ye children of tears,
    Whatever be thy Fatherland—­lo they are thine! 
    In faith and in joy, let us cherish the light,
    That comes like the sunshine all warm from above,
    For thus shall the Demons that sprung from the night
    Of the Past fade away in the noontide of love. 
    Bright Star of the West—­broad Land of the Free,
    The wreath and the anthem are woven for thee!

IV.