1850-60,] FLORUS B. PLIMPTON, 585 SOUVENIRS. I. — l'envot. As sweetly tranced the ravished Floren- tine Tarried 'mid pallid gloom, again to hear Cassella warble tuneful to his ear, Thus I, a Bacchant, rosy with love's wine. Drink thy words, sweet, forgetful with what haste Time's winged heel beats rearward all the hours. To me alike all seasons, deeds and pow- ers, When by the atmosphere of love embraced, I sit sun-crowned, and as a god elate. In thy dear presence. Let the great world go. In lowUest meads the pansies love to grow. And sweet Content was born to low estate. Here is our blessed Egeria — let us stay : Where love has fixed the heart, no charm can lure away. II.— TELL HEK. O river Beautiful ! the breezy hills That slope their green declivities to thee. In purple reaches hide my life from me. Go then, beyond the thunder of the mills, And wheels that churn thy waters into foam. And murmuring softly to the darling's ear, And murmuring sweetly when my love shall hear. Tell how I miss her presence in our home. Say that it is as lonely as my heart ; The rooms deserted ; all her pet birds mute; The sweet geraniums odorless ; the flute Its stops untouched, while wondrous gems of art Lie lusterless as diamonds in a mine. To kindle in her smile and in her radiance shine. m. — RETURN. Return — return ! nor longer stay thy feet^ Where rugged hills shut in the peaceful dale. And chattering runnels riot through the vale. And lose themselves in meadows violet sweet. Or does the oriole charm thee ; or the lark Lure thee to green fields, where the gurgling brook Leaps up to kiss thy feet, the while we look For thee with tearful eyes from morn till dark? O winds, that blow from out th' inconstant west, birds, that eastward wing your heaven- ly way. Tell her of our impatience — her delay, And woo the wanderer to her humble nest ; Come, as the dove that folds her wings in rest. When holy evening sets her watch-star in the west. THE BEREAVED. Alas ! for those who mourn, and stand Like watchers by a rainy sea. Who wait for what may never be. The white sails striving for the land. Their prayers are sighs, their vows are tears. For sorrow stayeth all the night. And sorrow broodeth in the light. And casts her shadows through the years.
