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LINES ON A VASE OF FLOWERS.

[FOUND OX MT DESK.]

I Gaze upon these simple flowere

As something I revere;
They grew in Love's enchanted bowers—

And Love hath placed them here.

I kiss their cheeks of virgin bloom,

I press their dewy lips,
While my rapt soul of their perfume,

Inebriated sips.

I look into their violet eyes,
And feel my heart grow calm,

And fancy I'm in Paradise,
Inhaling Eden's balm.

There in ecstatic dreams I rove Among celestial bowers,

Weaving a garland for my love, Of beatific flowers.

LOVE'S FIRST KISS.

I Never treasured up this kiss,
And gladly now would it forget,

But, with its rapturous thrill of bliss,
My heart, pulse, brain are throbbing yet.

Bevelling it lies upon my lips
Imbibing all their dewy showers,

As honey-bee the nectar sips,
From out the rosy lips of flowers.

And other thirsting kisses come
To claim their share of nectar too,

But, with his little roseate plume,
He drives them from his cup of dew.

O Cupid! take thy kiss again!

Bid it from off my lip depart, 'Tis sipping life from every vein,

Its beak is fastened on my heart.

THE KISS.

Two lovely beings near me stood,
The one a tall and blooming youth:

The other, in sweet maidenhood,

All wreathed with smiles, and love, and truth.

He gazed upon her beaming face

As if his soul lay mirrored there, Then drew her close to his embrace—

But shrinking back, she said, "Take care!"

"It never gave me joy," he sighed,
"The dew from saintly lips to sip—

I'd rather quaff the lava-tide

That flushes Passion's burning lip."

"Then go," she said; "I spur n thy kiss;

Go, kneel at glowing Venus' shrine, And drink thy fill of wanton bliss—

Thy lip shall never feed on mine."

BLANCHE TO ANTONIO.

Since that balmy night in June We sat beneath the moon,

Mid zephyrs cool, While all the stars above Talked to us of light and love,

I've been a fooL

On the bolt of my heart's door
Rust had gathered—and before

It cobwebs hung;
But to thy touch, alack!
The rusty bolt flew back—

And ope it swung.

Then enter—do not falter— Take the chair beside the altar,

Intrepidly, O'er my spirit, kneeling there, Bend, and drink the holy prayer

It breathes for thee.

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