Oh! sometimes when our hearts are gay, And Pleasure round us smiles, Too soon the hours may pa.s.s away That rosy Mirth beguiles; And we may feel a tinge of pain Amid the festal cheer, And pause to ask, "When, when again, Shall all be gathered here?"

But ah! the future's dusky veil Hides coming years from view; And still our yearning eyes must fail To pierce its darkness through.

But Memory can hold the past That we have loved so well; And, like a halo round it cast, Affection's light may dwell.

And thus, my friends, though call'd away To join another scene, My thoughts shall often backward stray To all that once has been.

And bygone hours shall come again-- The cherished times and dear.

And bring the moments in their train When I was with you here.

And as sweet flowers, tho' sere and dead, Can by their fragrance bring Remembrance of the days long fled Again on Memory's wing.

So many a kindly smile I'll mourn With deep and fond regret; For though I never may return, I never can forget.

SOLITUDE.

"Solitude delighteth well to feed on many thoughts; There, as thou sittest peaceful, communing with Fancy, The precious poetry of life shall gild its leaden cares"

--TUPPER

Come, Solitude! best soother of my mind-- The sole companion of my happiest hours; The spell, all potent, of thy gentle powers Here in this lovely spot, I come to find.

Below yon mountains, in the sunset beams, Lough Neagh's gla.s.sy waters widely spread; And through the distance, like a shining thread, The "Silver Bann" along the valley gleams.

Lough Neagh! often in the evening light I've watched the golden sunset kiss thy breast, Then, as it died on many a wavelet's crest, Homeward, unwilling, turned, with fond "Goodnight."

The bare trees in the planting moan and sigh; I've watched their leaves from buds, till they had grown To vernal beauty. Withered now and strewn Upon the walks, all sere and dead they lie.

And in the Spring, when the young leaves came first, Here, often in my lone imaginings, What golden dreams I knew of glorious things; Visions my willing mind too fondly nurse.

Visions that, like the leaves, to beauty grew, Gladdening my heart thro' sunny summer hours; Clad in bright garlands, woven from Fancy's bowers Radiant with Hope's fair light of mellow hue.

And are they withered too? All those swept dreams That I had hoped in future years to see Around me bloom, in living, grand reality; No longer far-off things, or misty, meteor gleams.

Some like these leaves, have fallen by the way, Never again in spring to wake to birth; While some are mine e'en now, whose priceless worth Shall bloom and ripen, knowing no decay!

Round me the shadows deepen; and I see My dead dreams in a phantom band draw near.

And dim aeolian strains fall on my ear, like some wild mystic requiem's fitful melody!

Oh! Solitude! thou canst alone restore The buried bygone, till the haunted isles Of memory's chambers shine in moonlight smiles Shadows of sunlight from the days of yore.

Oh! Solitude! come often for my guest!

Still, when I meet thee in sequestered glade, I feel thy presence lasting peace has made; Of life's sweet things, I hold thee first and best!

WITH A WHITE ROSE.

Long ago, in ages olden, When our world was new; When old Time was young and golden, When men's hearts were true; Fairer flowers than now are growing Blossom'd everywhere-- Beauty to the earth bestowing, Sweetness to the air!

Well men loved them, fondly dreaming They were not of earth; In their glorious beauty seeming Of a higher birth.

And in those Elysian bowers, In the days of old, Speaking all their thoughts in flowers, Thus their love they told:--

One alone, of purest whiteness, Of them all was queen; Sweeter than their hues of brightness Was its snowy sheen.

If this flower as pledge were given By true hearts in love, Though on earth by sad doubts driven, Yet their life above Would be one in joy unending, Undivided there, Soul with soul in glory blending In that kingdom fair.

This the legend I have told thee Of the flower I send.

Oh, may its sweet leaves unfold thee Hope, with such an end!

"THE EXILE'S REVERIE."

It is sweet to dream of the vanished times, in this changing land of ours, When we touch the hidden spring of thought, with the wand of mystic powers, That Remembrance yields to our yearning hearts, that are lonely left, and pine For the loves once ours, till shadowy forms come round us, and flit and shine.

Through the gloom that wraps the earth-tired soul, that drifts on life's sea apart, Missing the clasp of a kindred hand, or thrill of heart to heart.

Alone! alone! on the wide, wide world, where hope can console no more; Alone! alone! on the friendless waste, strange, on a stranger sh.o.r.e.

Oft times when the gloaming gathers round, and the night wind moans on the hill Like a ghostly voice from the buried dead, when all around is still, In the midnight darkness and silence, I call through the mist and maze, To the sunny joys of the glad, bright dream, of the golden, bygone days.

Then the poem of the wakened long-ago, to the music of memory flows, Now filled as with bridal gladness, now wailing out dirge- like woes; Through sunshine and summer glories, through brightness and fragrant blooms, Through howling storms, 'neath winter skies, through weeping and murky glooms.

And then, when the weird strain ceases, and the fitful music is done, The pictures I love to gaze on, rise slowly, one by one Through the mist of the past slow coming, they give to our eyes once more, What Death has stolen from me, and Death can alone restore.

Again, as in early childhood, I feel the fond caress Of my mother's lips, or I hear the tones of my father's voice that bless His child in its gleeful gambols; Oh! happy and peaceful hours!

Ye come in visions of golden noons, and sunshine, and shady bowers!

And the low-breathed prayer when the sunset glow'd crimson in the West, And the sweet "Good-night," and the tender kiss, ere I sank to tranquil rest; Mother! that prayer still haunts me, adown the dreary years, And the earnest tones of thy gentle voice, can steep my soul in tears.

My brothers! faithful hearted! strong in your love, and true; Oh! breaking heart, do you mock me? Can _they_ have perished too?

In their morning time, when they shared my dreams of a Crown and a Life-fight won, Thank G.o.d, it was their's so early, when my fight had but begun!

Oh, darling, best-beloved! keen now is the aching smart, As when Death's chill touch on our clasped hands fell, when he breathed the hard word "part,"

Only for earth's short span, my sweet, for love can never die, And the spirit bond but strengthens, as Time's wild waves sweep bye.

Mine! by the vows soft-whispered, where hand in hand we strayed In twilight hours, through summer lanes, or roamed in the lonely glade; But the dream in its glory perished, and earth's brightest hope was fled, And light from my life was faded, when they laid thee with the dead!

Elsie! my bright-haired sister! tender blossom and pure!

You drooped in that last storm's fury, too fragile its might to endure; And then I left the home-nest when my last sweet dove had flown, And sought to forget, amid stranger scenes, the sorrows my soul had known.

It's thus the shadowy phantoms come back from the spirit- sh.o.r.e,

When I cry in my lonely anguish for the joys now mine no more.