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And when, in other climes, we meet
Some isle or vale enchanting,
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And naught but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss
If Heaven had but assigned us

To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we 've left behind us!

As travellers oft look back at eve
When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave

Still faint behind them glowing,
So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consigned us,
We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left behind us.

THOMAS MOORE.

ADIEU, ADIEU! MY NATIVE SHORE.

ADIEU, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;

The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea

We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native Land
Good Night!

A few short hours, and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,

But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,

Its hearth is desolate ;

Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.

MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME.

NEGRO SONG.

BYRON.

THE sun shines bright in our old Kentucky home; 'Tis summer, the darkeys are gay;

The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom,

While the birds make music all the day; The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy, all bright;

By 'm by hard times comes a knockin' at the door,Then, my old Kentucky home, good night!

CHORUS.

Weep no more, my lady; 0, weep no more today!

We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For our old Kentucky home far away.

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Should her lineaments resemble

Those thou nevermore mayst see,
Then thy heart will softly tremble
With a pulse yet true to me.

All my faults perchance thou knowest,
All my madness none can know ;
All my hopes, where'er thou goest,
Wither, yet with thee they go.
Every feeling hath been shaken ;

Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee, by thee forsaken,

Even my soul forsakes me now; But 't is done; all words are idle, Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will.

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FAREWELL! THOU ART TOO DEAR. FAREWELL thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving.

Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine

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Are as cold as that lonely river;
And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine,
Has shrouded its fires forever.

And now on the midnight sky I look,
And my heart grows full of weeping;
Each star is to me a sealed book,

Some tale of that loved one keeping.
We parted in silence, - - we parted in tears,
On the banks of that lonely river:

But the odor and bloom of those bygone years
Shall hang o'er its waters forever.

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But, with her heart, if not her ear, The old loved voice she seemed to hear: "I wait to meet thee: be of cheer,

For all is well!"

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

TO LUCASTA.

IF to be absent were to be
Away from thee;

Or that, when I am gone,
You or I were alone;

Then, my Lucasta, might I crave

Pity from blustering wind or swallowing wave.

But I'll not sigh one blast or gale
To swell my sail,

Or pay a tear to 'suage

The foaming blue-god's rage; For, whether he will let me pass Or no, I'm still as happy as I was.

Though seas and lands be 'twixt us both,

Our faith and troth,

Like separated souls,

All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meet,

Unseen, unknown; and greet as angels greet.

So, then, we do anticipate

Our after-fate,

And are alive i' th' skies,
If thus our lips and eyes
Can speak like spirits unconfined
In heaven,

their earthly bodies left behind.

COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE.

I LOVE MY JEAN.

OF a' the airts the wind can blaw,
I dearly like the west;

For there the bonnie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best.

There wild woods grow, and rivers row,

And monie a hill's between ;
But day and night my fancy's flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flowers,
I see her sweet and fair;

I hear her in the tunefu' birds,

I hear her charm the air;

There's not a bonnie flower that springs

By fountain, shaw, or green;

There's not a bonnie bird that sings,
But minds me of my Jean.

ROBERT BURNS.

The points of the compass.

LOVE'S MEMORY.

FROM "ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL," ACT I. SC. 1.

I AM undone there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me :
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table, - heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favor:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.

SHAKESPEARE.

O, SAW YE BONNIE LESLEY?

O, SAW ye bonnie Lesley

As she gaed o'er the border?

She's gane, like Alexander,

To spread her conquests farther.

To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever;
For nature made her what she is,
And ne'er made sic anither!

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee;
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

The hearts o' men adore thee.
The deil he could na scaith thee,

Or aught that wad belang thee; He'd look into thy bonnie face, And say, "I canna wrang thee!"

The Powers aboon will tent thee; Misfortune sha' na steer thee; Thou 'rt like themselves sae lovely That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley,

Return to Caledonie !
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's name again sae bonnie.

ROBERT BURNS.

JEANIE MORRISON.

I'VE wandered east, I've wandered west,
Through mony a weary way;

But never, never can forget
The luve o' life's young day!

• Harm.

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