I THINK OF THEE. BY T. K. HERVEY. I THINK of thee, in the night And the moon comes out, with her pale sad light, When the stars are all like dreams, And the breezes all like sighs, And there comes a voice from far off streams, I think of thee by day, 'Mid the cold and busy crowd, When the laughter of the young and Is far too glad and loud; I hear thy low sad tone, And thy sweet young smile I see, -My heart-my heart were all alone, Of thee, who wert so dear, And yet, I do not weep; gay For thine eyes were stained by many a tear Before they went to sleep; And, if I haunt the past, Yet may I not repine, That thou hast won thy rest at last, And all the grief is mine. I think upon thy gain, Whate'er to me it cost, And fancy dwells, with less of pain, Hope-like the cuckoo's endless tale, And love, that—like the nightingale— 42 I THINK OF THEE. Thou art my spirit's all, Just as thou wert in youth; Still from thy grave no shadows fall A taper yet above thy tomb, Since lost its sweeter rays, And what is memory through the gloom, Was hope in brighter days! I am pining for the home Where sorrow sinks to sleep, That each should be a tear, Oh, like those fairy things,- Which have their beauty in their wings, I never knew how dear thou wert, I have it yet about my heart, As if the robe thou wert to wear, EXCUSE FOR NOT FULFILLING AN ENGAGEMENT. BY LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY. My friend, I gave a glad assent "You must dismiss at four." And where these mountains rise, And where that blind old monarch reigned, And who was king before; And stay a little after five, And tell us something more," "We did not know you kept a school, Their visit was but short indeed, As these slight numbers show, But, ah! they bade me write with speed,My friend, I cannot go. FORGET THEE? BY THE REV. JOHN MOULTRIE. "FORGET thee?"-If to dream by night, and muse on thee by day; If all the worship, deep and wild, a poet's heart can pay, If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to heaven's protecting power, If winged thoughts that flit to thee-a thousand in an hour, If busy Fancy, blending thee with all my future lot,— If this thou call'st "forgetting," thou, indeed, shalt be forgot! "Forget thee?"-Bid the forest birds forget their sweetest tune! "Forget thee?"-Bid the sea forget to swell beneath the moon; Bid the thirsty flowers forget to drink the eve's refreshing dew; Thyself forget thine "own dear land," and its "mountains wild and blue;" Forget each old familiar face, each long-remembered spot: When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shalt be forgot! Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace, still calm and fancy-free; For, God forbid! thy gladsome heart should grow less glad for me; Yet, while that heart is still unwon, oh, bid not mine to rove! But let it muse its humble faith, and uncomplaining love; If these, preserved for patient years, at last avail me not, Forget me then ;-but ne'er believe that thou canst be forgot! ADDRESS TO A WILD DEER. BY PROFESSOR WILSON. MAGNIFICENT creature! so stately and bright! O'er a hundred hill tops since the mists of the morn, moor, As the vision glides by him, may blameless adore; His voyage is o'er-as if struck by a spell, |