Passion is blind not Love: her wondrous might
Informs with three-fold pow'r man's inward sight: —
To her deep glance the soul at large displayed
Shews all its mingled mass of light and shade: —
Men call her blind when she but turns her head,
Nor scans the fault for which her tears are shed.
Can dull Indifference or Hate's troubled gaze
See through the secret heart's mysterious maze? —

Can Scorn and Envy pierce that " dread abode",
Where true faults rest beneath the eye of God?
Not theirs, 'mid inward darkness, to discern

My youthful compeer once was rosy Health
She led me forth beside the sparkling rills;
But Love by Fortune ruled came but by stealth,
And while my feet were bounding o'er the hills
This heart was heavy with a load of care;
Mine eyes turned inward on a shadowed mind:
That Lake was bright — but Henry was not there:
In vain does Nature smile when Love's unkind.

Youth shed around me his ethereal light;
Seen through those beams this face awhile seemed fair;
If not of heavenly mould 'twas soft and bright,

Your basket, with your lovely basket
your trowel, with your lovely trowel
girl, you who pick herbs on this hill,
speak of your house. Speak of your name.
In the Land of Yamato, seen from the sky,
it is I who conquer and reign
it is I who conquer and rule.
Let it be me who speaks
of my house and my name.

O, how, Love, must I fill
This dreary, dreary blank —
How do your eyes no ill,
Yet fully use my frank? —

By putting there a token
Of what you called a bliss,
When tender words were spoken —
When you asked me for a kiss!

The cat in love is pitiable,
Caterwauling from the beginning.

Come to the grave — the silent grave! and dream
Of a light, happy voice — so full of joy,
That those who heard her laugh, would laugh again,
Echoing the mirth of such an innocent spirit;
And pause in their own converse, to look round,
Won by the witchery of that gleesome tone.
Come to the grave — the lone dark grave! and dream
Of eyes whose brilliancy was of the soul,
Eyes which, with one bright flash from their dark lids,
Seemed at a glance to read the thoughts of others;
Or, with a full entire tenderness,

When, poor in all but hope and love,
I clasped thee to my faithful heart;
For wealth and fame I vowed to rove,
That we might meet no more to part!
Years have gone by — long weary years
Of toil, to win thee comfort now —
Of ardent hopes — of sickening fears —
And wealth is mine — but where art thou ?

Fame's dazzling dreams, for thy dear sake,
Those brighter than before to me;
I clung to all I deemed could make
My burning heart more worthy thee.
Years have gone by — the laurel droops
In mockery o'er my joyless brow:

They loved one another! young Edward and his wife,
And in their cottage-home they dwelt, apart from sin and strife.
Each evening Edward weary came from a day of honest toil,
And Mary made the fire blaze, and smiled a cheerful smile.
Oh! what was wealth or pomp to them, the gaudy glittering show,
Of jewels blazing on the breast, where heaves a heart of woe!
The merry laugh, the placid sleep, were theirs they hated sloth,
And all the little that they had, belonged alike to both,
For they loved another!

I.

O When shall my glad Soul releast
From these uneasy Chains of Clay,
To the bright Regions of the Blest
Wing with a Lover's Speed her Way?

II.

Where ravish'd with His blissful Sight,
I my Redeemer may adore,
And in the pure Abodes of Light,
May live and love, and sin no more!

Still is the earth. If my heart were as still
As the slow-breathing earth to the wide clear sky,
If I were as free of my labouring will
As the deep-growing earth and the calm-giving sky,
My heart I should fill at the lift of a sigh
With the love and the wisdom the earth lives by.