No! never more shall see below,

Beloved, thy form so fair,

Thy lily cheek and snowy brow,

Thy wealth of golden hair;

And yet, lost one, thou art to me
More than the living all can be-
A light that shines from heaven afar,
My morning and my evening star.

Around me-near me-every where I hear thy angel voice;

Sweet accents from a viewless sphere, Bidding my heart rejoice :

At morn or eve, in vale or grove,

Where'er my footsteps tend,

Down from thy starry realms above
Thy meek eyes on me bend.

And thus, lost one, thou art to me
More than the living all can be-
A light that shines from heaven afar,
My morning and my evening star.

TO THEA.

"Her love was registered in Heaven."

By day, by night, in weal or wo,
Where'er on earth my lot may be ;
'Neath orient skies-midst polar snow,

I'll still love thee.

If it be mine to dwell afar

In distant lands beyond the sea,

Where savages untutored are,

I'll still love thee.

Or in my home near thee to dwell,

A simple child of minstrelsy,

And win the world with song's sweet spell

I'll still love thee.

If ever in the festal throng

I go, midst sounds of revelry,

And Beauty's smile, and dance, and song,

I'll still love thee.

Or if the waves of sorrow roll

Around me wild, tempestuously,

And overwhelm at last my soul,

I'll still love thee.

And when upon the couch of death,

And time is closing unto me,

My latest prayer-my latest breath

I'll breathe for thee.

But when we see,

Maid, as in thee,

These truly all combine,

We feel Love's thrill

Our bosoms fill,

And bow at Beauty's shrine.