THEY KNOW NOT MY HEART. THEY know not my heart, who believe there can be One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee; Who think, while I see thee in beauty's young hour, As pure as the morning's first dew on the flower, I could harm what I love-as the sun's wanton ray But smiles on the dew-drop to waste it away! No!-beaming with light as those young features are, There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far: It is not that cheek-'tis the soul dawning clear Through its innocent blush makes thy beauty so dear- As the sky we look up to, though glorious and fair, Is look'd up to the more because heaven is there! T. MOORE. THE WAKING BEAUTY. RISE, lady! mistress, rise! The night hath tedious been, Is not she a saint then, say, Rise, madam, rise! and give me light, For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes. FIELD. WOMAN. GONE from her cheek is the summer bloom, And her lip has lost all its faint perfume, And the gloss has dropp'd from her golden hair, And her cheek is pale-but no longer fair; And the spirit that sate on her soft blue eye, Is struck with cold mortality; And the smile that play'd round her lip has fled, And every charm has now left the dead. Like slaves they obey'd her in height of power, But left her all in her wintry hour; And the crowds that swore for her love to die, Shrunk from the tone of her last faint sigh- 'Tis woman alone, with a purer heart, BARRY CORNWALL. SONNET. METHINKS how dainty sweet it were, reclined Beloved! I were well content to play LAMB. Huon.-I loved thee once! Oh! tell me, when was it I loved thee not? Was 't in my childhood, boyhood, manhood? In all of them I loved thee! And were I now me once; But that was all his life!" Countess.-'Twas heart for heart! I loved thee ever! Yes! the passion now Thrills on the woman's tongue; the girl's had told thee, Had I been bold as fond; for even then I could not help my nature. From that time Would shake my frame to dissolution! Yes! |