26
Poems.
Like a pleiad lost, or a soul sin-tossed!Ah come to me, come, let me leap from the shore,Give me but a sea grave, I'll not ask any more!Oh joy! There, the chariots, I see through the foam,I hear the sweet voices, I go to my home!
THE RETURN FROM THE MASQUE BALL.
From a picture—A young girl attired in a masquerade costume is seen prostrate beside the dead body of her mother.
Bright flash the lights in a grand saloon, Through bannered rooms there falls no shade,Clear, rippling music all in tune Lends charms to the masquerade.
Sweeter and wilder flows the strains, Closer the waltzing figures press,The blood flows fast in warm young veins, Bright ringlets cling in soft caress.
"To the dance, my darling! why tremblest thou, Why does thy breath sob thick and fast?Oh come! While the waltz strain soundeth now Ere its merry measure's past."
