The black eye may say,
"Come and worship my ray-—

By adoring, perhaps, you may move ine!"
But the blue eye, half hid,

Says, from under its lid,

"I love, and am yours, if you love me!" Yes, Fanny!

The blue eye, half hid,

Says, from under its lid,

"I love, and am yours, if you love me!"

Come tell me, then, why,

In that lovely blue eye,

Not a charm of its tint I discover;
Oh why should you wear

The only blue pair

That ever said "No" to a lover?
Dear Fanny!

Oh, why should you wear
The only blue pair

That ever said "No" to a lover?

THEY MET BUT ONCE.

THEY met but once, in youth's sweet hour,
And never since that day

Hath absence, time, or grief had pow'r
To chase that dream away.

They've seen the suns of other skies,

On other shores have sought delight;
But never more, to bless their eyes,
Can come a dream so bright!
They met but once,-a day was all
Of Love's young hopes they knew;
And still their hearts that day recall,
As fresh as then it flew.

Sweet dream of youth! oh, ne'er again
Let either meet the brow

They left so smooth and smiling then,
Or see what it is now.

For, Youth, the spell was only thine;

From thee alone th' enchantment flows, That makes the world around thee shine With light thyself bestows.

They met but once,-oh, ne'er again
Let either meet the brow

They left so smooth and smiling then,
Or see what it is now.

I LOVE a maid, a mystic maid,

Whose form no eyes but mine can see; She comes in light, she comes in shade, And beautiful in both is she.

Her shape in dreams I oft behold,

And oft she whispers in my ear Such words as when to others told, Awake the sigh, or wring the tear;

Then guess, guess, who she,

The lady of my love, may be.

I find the lustre of her brow

Come o'er me in my darkest ways; And feel as if her voice, ev'n now, Were echoing far off my lays.

There is no scene of joy or woe

But she doth gild with influence bright;

And shed o'er all so rich a glow,

As makes ev'n tears seem full of light:

Then guess, guess, who she,

The lady of my love, may be.

WHEN twilight dews are falling so't
Upon the rosy sea, love,

I watch the star, whose beam so oft
Has lighted me to thee, love.
And thou, too, on that orb so dear
Dost often gaze at even,

And think, though lost for ever here,
Thou'lt yet be mine in heaven.

There's not a garden walk I tread,
There's not a flow'r I see, love,
But brings to mind some hope that's fled,
Some joy that's gone with thee, love.
And still I wish that hour was near,
When, friends and foes forgiven,

The pains, the ills we've wept through here,
May turn to smiles in heaven.

OH, CALL IT BY SOME BETTER NAME.

OH, call it by some better name,

For Friendship sounds too cold,
While Love is now a worldly flame,
Whose shrine must be of gold;
And Passion, like the sun at noon,
That burns o'er all he sees,
Awhile as warm, will set as soon-
Then, call it none of these.

Imagine something purer far,

More free from stain of clay
Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are,
Yet human still as they:

And if thy lip, for love like this,

No mortal word can frame,

Go, ask of angels what it is,
And call it by that name!

HER last words, at parting, how can I forget?

Deep treasur'd through life, in my heart they shall stay;
Like music, whose charm in the soul lingers yet,

When its sounds from the ear have long melted away.
Let Fortune assail me, her threat'nings are vain;
Those still-breathing words shall my talisman be,-
"Remember, in absence, in sorrow, and pain,

There's one heart, unchanging, that beats but for thee."

From the desert's sweet well tho' the pilgrim must hie,
Never more of that fresh-springing fountain to taste,
He hath still of its bright drops a treasur'd supply,
Whose sweetness lends life to his lips through the waste.