200 ANNA P. DINNIES. [1830-40. For deemest thou she had stooped to bind Her fate unto a common mind ? The eagle-hke ambition, nursed From childhood in her heart, had first Consumed, with its Promethean flame, The shrine that sunk her so to shame. Then rouse thee, dearest, from the dream That fetters now thy powers : Shake off this gloom — Hope sheds a beam To gild each cloud that lowers ; And though at present seems so far The wished-for goal — a guiding star, With peaceful ray, would light thee on. Until its utmost bounds be won : That quenchless ray thou'lt ever prove. In fond, undying, Wedded Love. THE WIFE. I COULD have stemm'd misfortune's tide, And borne the rich one's sneer, Have braved the haughty glance of pride. Nor shed a single tear : I could have smiled on every blow From Life's full quiver thrown. While I might gaze on thee, and know I should not be " alone." I could — ^I think I could have brook'd. E'en for a time, that thou Upon my fading face hadst look'd With less of love than now ; For then I should at least have felt The sweet hope still my own, To win thee back, and, whilst I dwelt On earth, not be " alone." But thus to see, from day to day. Thy brightening eye and cheek, And watch thy life-sands waste away, Unnumbered, slowly, meek ; To meet thy smiles of tenderness, And catch the feeble tone Of kindness, ever breathed to bless, And feel, I'll be "alone;"— To mark thy strength each hour decay, And yet thy hopes grow stronger. As, filled with heavenward trust, they say, "Earth may not claim thee longer;" Nay, dearest, 'tis too much — this heart Must break, when thou art gone ; It must not be ; we may not part ; I could not live " alone ! " UNTOLD FEELINGS. Where the wizard-power to show What may cause the tear to flow — What may wake the passing sigh. Pale the cheek, and dim the eye ? There are chords in many a breast Too sacred to be rudely press'd, Which thrill to memory's touch alone. Telling of blissful hours by-gone ; A silly jest, a careless word, A simple sound, a singing bird, A falling leaf, the time of year, May wake the sigh, or start the tear. Then hallow'd be the hidden feeling, When the tear is softly stealing ; Let no cold observance tell Where the limpid offering fell ; To all it is not given to know The balm of comfort to bestow ; Nor all have power to understand Emotions swelling o'er command. Mark not the sigh, then, deep as low, Mark not the marble cheek and brow. But let the tear in silence flow O'er still remember'd joy or woe — A bless'd relief, in mercy given — A balmy fount, whose spring is Heaven. 1
