LYRICS. LINES ON SOME VIOLETS. [LEFT UPON MY DESK WHILE I WAS AT A FUNERAL] He brought these violets yester-eve, To me they meekly said: "Let not thy gentle heart-founts flow For her who is at rest, But joy and sing for all who go To sit among the blest. Weep for thyself, and not for her, Child of melodious grief! And pray thy Angels, hovering near, To make life's journey brief. "For, now we hear thy spirit beat, With bleeding plumes, its grate, And treading with impatient feet, Like one that could not wait. "Like one, who, pale mid dungeon gloom, Paces his scanty floor, Awaiting till the jailer come To ope his prison-door." LINES ON A VASE OF FLOWERS. [FOUND ON MY DESK.] I GAZE upon these simple flowers They grew in Love's enchanted bowers- I kiss their cheeks of virgin bloom, While my rapt soul of their perfume, 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, But, with its rapturous thrill of bliss, My heart, pulse, brain are throbbing yet. Revelling 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. |