MEMORY

I

WHAT art thou Memory, the essence of the

mind;

Embodiment of all the faculties combined;

The seat of all the intellect; the moral throne; The lamp that keeps our love alight, when all is gone?

II

Thou mausoleum of the heart, in which are

urned

Our dead and buried hopes, those ill-spared joys that turned

The clouds of life to laughing sunshine, full and

bright,

Whose every ray of bliss converged in one

delight.

III

What subtle necromancy little children own,

'Tis felt in every footstep; 'tis heard in ev'ry tone!

Its influence still lives, though buried in the grave Where memory hath laid the dear ones God once

gave.

IV

Within the vault of memory are close entombed Our dearest, best ambitions, blighted, long since doomed

To banishment perpetual; yet here they stay
Fair relics of a goal for ever passed away.

V

Oh, memory is crowded with graves of ev'ry

kind;

The broken trust; the stinging wrong that haunts

the mind;

Our wasted love; the false deed done in friendship's

guise;

In this mysterious place each ghostly shadow lies!

VI

What art thou Memory, a vista fair of dreams,
Or, vision of the past in which our fancy teems
With fond illusions of sweet, sunny rose-strewn

ways,

Crowned with the pearly beauties that belong

youth's rosy days?

VII

Along the avenue of Time there rises now

A shining halo whose soft lustre doth endow

One darkened scene with sun, one glaring scene

with shade

Thus looking down the distance, a pleasing glamour's laid.

VIII

And all throughout the way traversed long years

ago,

Time strews enchantments fair, by which he may

bestow

A multiple of joys to cover all the pains,

That in the grand sum-total only good remains.

LOVE'S MISERIES

I

OH, how I love thee, how I hate thee,

Often wish thee far away,

And endeavour day by day,

To teach, and charge my heart most straitly That my love is gone for aye.

II

My heart's emotions beat not even
In their palpitating walls;

When thy deep voice gently calls
My name in love, 'tis taste of heaven
That thy presence here forestalls.

III

But when I watch thine eyes all roving
O'er the charms of ev'ry fair ;

Like the bee who here and there

Is constant changing, always moving,

Kissing flow'rets ev'rywhere.

R

IV

And I can see new passion gleaming

In thy face, but not for me,
Naught am I just then to thee;

Then straightway thousand torments teeming,
Gather round tumultuously.

V

High throbs my heart, but not with gladness,

Moved with pain I know so well,

Filled with hate I cannot quell,

And all the tumult, and the madness

Make it feel a very hell.

VI

Then a weary feeling follows,

And the joy my heart had known

Into black despair is grown,

Full darker than the darkest hollows,

Where the sun no ray hath thrown.