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A THOUGHT FOR SPRING.

I am happier for the Spring; For my heart is like a bird That has many songs to sing, But whose voice is never heard Till the happy year is caroling To the daisies on the sward.

I'd be happier for the Spring, Though my heart had grown so old Like a crone 'twould sit and sing Its shrill runes of wintry cold; For I'd know the year was caroling To the daisies on the wold.

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THE SWALLOWS.

I asked the first stray swallow of the spring, "Where hast thou been through all the winter drear?

Beneath what distant skies did'st fold thy wing, Since thou wast with us here, When Autumn's withered leaves foretold the pa.s.sing year?"

And it replied, "Whither has Fancy led The plumy thoughts that circle through thy brain?

Like birds about some mountain's lofty head, Singing a sweet refrain: There, without bound, I've been, and must return again."

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SONG.--CLARA AND I.

We have a joke whenever we meet, Clara and I; Prattle and laughter, and kisses sweet, Clara and I.

Were I but twenty, and not two score, Clara and I would laugh still more, With plenty of hopeful years in store For Clara and I, Clara and I; With plenty of hopeful years in store For Clara and I.

We will be true as Damascus steel, Clara and I; Sealing our truth with a honied seal, Clara and I.

Eyes so loving, and lips of rose, Cheeks where the dainty ripe peach grows, And mouth where the sly G.o.d smiles jocose At Clara and I, Clara and I; And mouth where the sly G.o.d smiles jocose At Clara and I.

We have a kiss whenever we part, Clara and I; Grasping of hand, and flutter of heart, Clara and I.

Were she but twenty, and not sixteen, Over my love she'd reign the queen,

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And no fair rival should come between My Clara and I, Clara and I; And no fair rival should come between My Clara and I.

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THE APRIL SNOW-STORM--1858.

Spread lightly, virgin shower, Your winding-sheet of snow; Winter has lost his power, But mock not at his woe.

Fall not so cold and bleak, Nor blow the breath of scorn; Gently. Thy sire is weak; And thou, his latest-born.

Frail type of life thou art: At first, pure as the snow We come--abide--depart; What more, th' Immortals know.

Fall gently, virgin shower, Though wild the west wind raves; Watch through this midnight hour Above the new-made graves!

Spread gently, virgin shower, Your winding sheet of snow; My heart has lost its power, But mock not at its woe.

Fall not so cold and bleak, Treat not her corse with scorn; Gently. My heart is weak; She, too, was April-born.

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Fall gently, virgin shower; The heart once strong and brave Hath lost its wonted power; 'Tis buried in her grave.

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GOOD NIGHT.

We never say, "Good Night;"

For our eager lips are fleeter Than the tongue, and a kiss is sweeter Than parting words, That out like swords; So we always kiss Good Night.

We never say "Good Night."

Words are precious, love, why lose 'em?

Fold them up in your maiden bosom; There let them rest, Like love unconfessed, While we kiss a sweet Good Night.

There comes a last Good Night.

Human life--not love--is fleeting; Heaven send many a birth-day greeting; Dim years roll on To life's gray-haired dawn, Ere we kiss our last Good Night.

We've kissed our last Good Night!

Love's warm tendrils torn and bleeding, Vain all human interceding!

Oh, life! how dark!

Its one vital spark Was quenched with our last GOOD NIGHT!

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HOPELESS.

I think through the long, long evenings, Such thoughts of intensest pain, And I hope and watch for her coming, But I hope and watch in vain, My life is a long, long journey Over a barren moor, With nought but my own dark shadow Hastening on before.