You have been glad when you knew I was gladdened;
Dear, are you sad now to hear I am saddened? 
Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, love,
As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love: 
I cannot weep but your tears will be flowing,
You cannot smile but my cheek will be glowing;
I would not die without you at my side, love,
You will not linger when I shall have died, love.

Come to me, dear, ere I die of my sorrow,
Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow;
Strong, swift, and fond as the words which I speak, love,
With a song on your lip and a smile on your cheek, love. 
Come, for my heart in your absence is weary,—­
Haste, for my spirit is sickened and dreary,—­
Come to the arms which alone should caress thee. 
Come to the heart that is throbbing to press thee!

JOSEPH BRENAN.

THE WIFE TO HER HUSBAND.

Linger not long.  Home is not home without thee: 
  Its dearest tokens do but make me mourn. 
O, let its memory, like a chain about thee,
  Gently compel and hasten thy return!

Linger not long.  Though crowds should woo thy staying,
  Bethink thee, can the mirth of thy friends, though dear,
Compensate for the grief thy long delaying
  Costs the fond heart that sighs to have thee here?

Linger not long.  How shall I watch thy coming,
  As evening shadows stretch o’er moor and dell;
When the wild bee hath ceased her busy humming,
  And silence hangs on all things like a spell!

How shall I watch for thee, when fears grow stronger,
As night grows dark and darker on the hill! 
How shall I weep, when I can watch no longer! 
  Ah! art thou absent, art thou absent still?

Yet I shall grieve not, though the eye that seeth me
  Gazeth through tears that makes its splendor dull;
For oh!  I sometimes fear when thou art with me,
  My cup of happiness is all too full.

Haste, haste thee home unto thy mountain dwelling,
  Haste, as a bird unto its peaceful nest! 
Haste, as a skiff, through tempests wide and swelling,
  Flies to its haven of securest rest!

ANONYMOUS.

MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME.

     NEGRO SONG.

The sun shines bright on our old Kentucky home;
  ’Tis summer, the darkeys are gay;
The corn top’s ripe and the meadow’s in the bloom,
  While the birds make music all the day;
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
  All merry, all happy, all bright;
By’m by hard times comes a knockin’ at the door,—­
  Then, my old Kentucky home, good night!

CHORUS.

Weep no more, my lady; O, weep no more to-day! 
We’ll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
  For our old Kentucky home far away.

They hunt no more for the possum and the coon,
  On the meadow, the hill, and the shore;
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
  On the bench by the old cabin door;
The day goes by, like the shadow o’er the heart,
  With sorrow where all was delight;
The time has come, when the darkeys have to part,
  Then, my old Kentucky home, good night!