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How in one long deep dream of thee my nights and

days have past, Surely that humble, patient love must win back love

at last!

“ And thou wilt smile--my own, my own, shall be

the sunny smile, Which brightly fell, and joyously, on all but me

erewhile ! No more in vain affection's thirst my weary soul

shall pineOh! years of hope deferr'd were paid by one fond

glance of thine !

“Thou’lt meet me with that radiant look when thou

comest from the chase, For me, for me, in festal halls it shall kindle o’er

thy face!

Thou’lt reck no more tho' beauty's gift mine aspect

may not bless; In thy kind eyes this deep, deep love, shall give me

loveliness.

“ But wake! my heart within me burns, yet once

more to rejoice In the sound to which it ever leap'd, the music of

thy voice : Awake! I sit in solitude, that thy first look and tone, And the gladness of thine opening eyes may all be

mine alone.”

In the still chambers of the dust, thus pour'd forth

day by day, The passion of that loving dream from a troubled

soul found way,

Until the shadows of the grave had swept o'er every

grace, Left midst the awfulness of death on the princely form

and face.

And slowly broke the fearful truth upon the watch

er's breast, And they bore away the royal dead with requiems

to his rest, With banners and with knightly plumes all waving in

the wind

But a woman's broken heart was left in its lone despair THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL.

behind.

A fearful gist upon thy heart is laid,
Woman!-a power to suffer and to love,
Therefore thou so canst pity,

Wildly and mournfully the Indian drum

On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke; “ Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come,”.

So the red warriors to their captive spoke. Still, and amidst those dusky forms alone,

A youth, a fair-hair'd youth of England stood, Like a king's son ; tho’ from his cheek had flown

The mantling crimson of the island-blood, And his press'd lips look'd marble.-Fiercely bright, And high around him, blaz'd the fires of night,

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Rocking beneath the cedars to and fro,
As the wind pass'd, and with a fitful glow
Lighting the victim's face :-But who could tell
Of what within his secret heart befel,
Known but to heaven that hour?--Perchance a thought
Of his far home then so intensely wrought,
That its full image, pictured to his eye
On the dark ground of mortal agony,
Rose clear as day !-and he might see the band,
Of his young sisters wandering hand in hand,
Where the laburnums droop'd ; or haply binding
The jasmine, up the door's low pillars winding ;
Or, as day clos'd upon their gentle mirth,
Gathering with braided hair, around the hearth
Where sat their mother ; --and that mother's face
Its grave sweet smile yet wearing in the place
Where so it ever smiled !---Perchance the prayer
Learn'd at her knee came back on his despair ;

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