To pierce the heart with thrilling lay, She hath a way to sing so clear, Ann Hathaway; To breathe delight, Ann hath a way. When Envy's breath and rancorous tooth Do soil and bite fair worth and truth, And merit to distress betray, To soothe the heart, Ann hath a way. She hath a way to chase despair, To heal all grief, to cure all care, Turn foulest night to fairest day, Thou know'st, fond heart, Ann hath a way, She hath a way, Ann Hathaway; To make grief bliss, Ann hath a way. Talk not of gems, the orient list, Ann Hathaway; To shame bright gems, Ann hath a way. But were it to my fancy given, To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven; For though a mortal made of clay, Angels must love Ann Hathaway; She hath a way so to control, Ann Hathaway; To be heaven's self, Ann hath a way. Attributed to SHAKESPEARE. On Parting with his Books. As one who, destined from his friends to part, Hylas. "LOVELY river, lovely river, O to float upon thy stream! "There are forms about me winging, Where the sparkling crystal waters Couched on rose, the fountain's daughters Hylas, hark! the breeze is gushing But a nobler fate has found thee O'er the crystal waters bending, Deeper still the charm is stealing- In the naiads' bosom ever, Vainly now by hill and grove, Shalt thou seek him, son of Jove. ANONYMOUS. We Parted in Silence. WE parted in silence, we parted by night, Where the fragrant limes their boughs unite, The night-bird sang, and the stars above Of friends long passed to the kingdom of love, We parted in silence-our cheeks were wet 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 by-gone years JULIA CRAWFORD. Vanitas Vanitatum. THE stream that hurries by your fixed shore. The wind that dries at morn yon dewy lawn Those withered flowers to summer's ripening glow Those fallen leaves that strew yon garden bed On shore, or sea, or hill, or vale, or plain, Vainly for sunshine fled, and joys gone by, On, ever on, with unexhausted breath, Even with each word we speak a moment flies- Of all for which poor mortals vainly mourn, Life hath its home in heaven and earth beneath, Not all the chains that clank in eastern clime For all the phials in the doctor's store No drugs on age's wrinkled cheek renew Not all the tears by pious mourners shed If thus through lesser nature's empire wide If wind, and wave, and leaf, and sun, and flower, He walks on ice whose dallying spirit clings And he alone is wise whose well taught love Truths firm and bright, but oft to mortal ear Harsh as the raven's croak the sounds that tell Pray, reader, that the minstrel's strain Not all be vain; And when thou bend'st to God the suppliant knee, Remember me. GERALD GRIFFIN. |