HILE gazing on the moon's light,
A moment from her smile I turn'd,
To look at orbs, that, more bright,

In lone and distant glory burn'd.

But too far

Each proud star,

For me to feel its warming flame;
Much more dear

That mild sphere,

Which near our planet smiling came ;Thus, Mary, be but thou my own;

While brighter eyes unheeded play,

I'll love those moonlight looks alone,
That bless my home and guide my way.

The day had sunk in dim showers,

But midnight now, with lustre meet,
Illumined all the pale flowers,

Like hope upon a mourner's cheek.
I said (while

The moon's smile

Play'd o'er a stream, in dimpling bliss,) "The moon looks

On many brooks:

The brook can see no moon but this;" And thus, I thought, our fortunes run, For many a lover looks to thee, While oh! I feel there is but one,

One Mary in the world for me.

OUR FIRST YOUNG LOVE.

UR first

young love resembles

That short but brilliant ray,

Which smiles, and weeps, and trembles

Through April's earliest day.

And not all life before us,

Howe'er its lights may play,

Can shed a lustre o'er us

Like that first April ray.

Our summer sun may squander
A blaze serener, grander;

Our autumn beam

May, like a dream

Of heav'n, die calm away; But, no-let life before us

Bring all the light it may,

"T will ne'er shed lustre o'er us Like that first youthful ray.

NIGHTS OF MUSIC.

IGHTS of music, nights of loving,

Lost too soon, remember'd long,
When we went by moonlight roving,
Hearts all love and lips all song.

Worth whole years of fame to me!

Nights of song, and nights of splendour,
Fill'd with joys too sweet to last-
Joys that, like the star-light, tender,
While they shone, no shadow cast.
Though all other happy hours
From my fading mem'ry fly,
Of that star-light, of those bowers,
Not a beam, a leaf, shall die!

I LOVE BUT THEE.

F, after all, you still will doubt and fear me, And think this heart to other loves will stray, If I must swear, then, lovely doubter, hear me; By ev'ry dream I have when thou'rt away, By ev'ry throb I feel when thou art near me, I love but thee-I love but thee!

By those dark eyes, where light is ever playing,
Where Love, in depth of shadow, holds his throne,
And by those lips, which give whate'er thou'rt saying,
Or grave or gay, a music of its own,
A music far beyond all minstrel's playing,
I love but thee-I love but thee!

By that fair brow, where Innocence reposes,
As pure as moonlight sleeping upon snow,
And by that cheek, whose fleeting blush discloses
A hue too bright to bless this world below,
And only fit to dwell on Eden's roses,

I love but thee-I love but thee!