in 1828, at the age of twenty-six. His small volume of poetry published in 1825 contained a few pieces which not only won him considerable praise in his lifetime but are sure of immortality among American lyrics.]
SONG
We break the glass, whose sacred wine
To some beloved health we drain,
Lest future pledges, less divine,
Should e'er the hallowed toy profane;
And thus I broke a heart, that poured
Its tide of feeling out for thee,
In drafts, by after-times deplored,
Yet dear to memory.
But still the old impassioned ways
And habits of my mind remain,
And still unhappy light displays
Thine image chambered in my brain,
And still it looks as when the hours
Went by like flights of singing birds,
Or that soft chain of spoken flowers,
And airy gems, thy words.
A SERENADE
Look out upon the stars, my love,
And shame them with thine eyes,
On which, than on the lights above,
There hang more destinies.
Night's beauty is the harmony
Of blending shades and light;
Then, Lady, up,—look out, and be
A sister to the night!—
