380 SIDNEY DYER. [1840-50. TO AN ABSENT WIFE. Oh ! how I long to meet thee, love, Our arms to fondly twine. With lip to lip, and heart to heart. As when I called thee mine. Then hopes were clustering thick around, Like dew-gems on the spray, For life had cast no darkling shade, Across our flowery way. Oh ! how I long to meet thee, love. As when thy love for me, Unclasped thee from a mother's neck, A doating father's knee. And won thy trembling heart from home, Thy love and faith to twine In closer folds around a heart, That ne'er was worthy thine ! Oh ! how I long to meet thee, love, As by the river's side, We met to sti-ay at twilight's hour. And watch the silvery tide ; How soon it was forgotten, love, And left to glide unseen. That we might view love's stainless wave. That flowed our hearts between. Oh ! how I long to greet thee, love, As when beneath the hill. We sat around our cottage hearth, And drank of bliss our fill ; Ah ! 'twas an hour too bright to last, Its glow soon passed away, Misfortune's cloud hath intervened, And overcast our way. But we shall meet again, my love. And find affection's power Can quick dispel each darksome cloud. And glow as in youth's hour. Ah ! sweeter then shall be the voice Of love's enchanting sti'ain, And all those fondly cherished scenes, — We'll live them o'er again ! THE LEAF'S COMPLAINT. A LEAF, that chanced to fall one day, Down by the garden wall. Began to mourn, in pensive strains, Its sad, untimely fall. " And must I lie on this cold earth. With dying things around. And lose the bloom which graced my youth. And sink into the ground ? " My parent was yon monarch tree, The loftiest top in air ; And though I am so lowly now, 'Twas proud to have me there. " The birds oft lit upon my stem. Their sweetest songs to sing, And ever called, me in their lays, The fairest leaf of Spring. " The dews of night lay on my breast. And drank the fragrance there. Which morning's orient beams exhaled, Perfuming all the air. " When Sol's fierce rays had scorched my charms, And droopingly I hung, Refreshing showers came to my aid. And coolness round me flung. " Soft zephyrs rocked my native spray, And vigils round me kept, When all the stars came out at night. To smile as Nature slept. " Aye, when I grew and proudly waved Upon my native bough, All came obsequious to my will. But all forsake me now ! " The winds that came so soft and bland To lull me to repose, Now heap vile rubbish on my form, With every breath that blows.
