So has the beauty of my hopes
  Withered beneath woe’s wintry touch,—­
My heart has yielded to despair,
  Though lingering long and weeping much.

But oh! bright Hope, mid bleak Despair,
  Sprang, cheerly speaking to my heart,
Sweet, smiling spring shall yet return,
  And joyless winter must depart.

And Mercy throned beyond the sun,
  Whose breath thy living soul hath given,
Will lead thee to a deathless spring
  Within the glorious gates of heaven.

Ah! deeply do I bless that word! 
  It drives my gloomy fears away;—­
I kneel upon the dreary snow,
  And bid my God be praised for aye.

SPRING.

Now, Mary fair, the Spring has come,
  Back to our fairyland,
And buds begin to breathe perfume,
  The breeze blows sweet and bland;
The gay, green groves are ringing clear,
  The crystal waters shine;
Now, Mary sweet, the scene is dear,
  The moments are divine.

And, Mary, hearken how the birds
  Are courting in the grove,
Oh! listen how their music words
  Speak tender things of love. 
Let us be happy, Mary fair,
  We waste these heavenly hours,
Let’s rove where fragrance fills the air,
  Among the opening flowers.

Yes, Mary dear, let’s quit the throng,
  And from the tumult flee,
The birds these living bowers among,
  Shall sweetly sing for thee;
And happy zephyr wave his wing,
  And streams make melody,
And loveliest flowers gaily spring
  Thy matchless face to see.

Dear Mary, why, why should we stay,
  While Nature calls us forth? 
See! love and pleasure, smiling, stray,
  O’er all the gladsome earth! 
While all around is mirth and song,
  Let us be joyful, too,
And, listening to the feathered throng,
  Our vows of love renew.

AN INCIDENT.

The sighs of summer night, were sweet without,
As the breath of spirits, on the folded roses,
The sweet moon, like a young and timid bride,
Came softly trembling through the eastward oaks—­
Where I espied a Glorious Beauty standing,
Glowing and bright, in a portico vine-wreathed. 
Shaken by wrestling Hope and Doubt within,
I quickly slid unto her side; and she
Wore no dark frown—­but smiled—­she smiled on me! 
Her white brows shone amid her darkest hair,
Like that moon’s beams amid the opening gloom: 
And her slight, delicate shape would shame the limbs
Of fairies tripping on the moonlit green. 
And she did smile on me—­that Glorious Beauty! 
And I stood there, and clasped her lily hands! 
And I did peer into her lustrous eyes! 
And they gave back my ardent gaze of love! 
She spake—­the tremulous accents of her voice
Was like a sweet stream breaking upon rocks;
And when the music of those thrilling words,
Rushed on my soul—­I sank upon her bosom,
And felt that we could part no more on earth.