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TO MY WIFE.

DEC. 25, 1844.

Presents enough to suit my mind

For all the rest I see,
But gift to please my taste I find

None, dearest, fit for thee.

Not earthly gift could e'er repay

The joy thou art to me, Nor of purest flame betray

The love I bear to thee.

gem of

Where golden gifts too poor would shine,

Their want expressive be:
No gift I need, while thou art mine,

Myself, I give to thee.

IMPROMPTU.

TO S. M. G.

Scarce arrived at bright sixteen,
Unsubdued by sorrows grim,
Susie slips along between
Youngster wild and maiden prim.
Mingled with her follies gay,
Graver notes begin to rise;
In her brightness shadows play,
Like the hues of summer skies.
Busy Time begins to blight
Early dreams and prospects clear;
Restless Time brings on the night-
Trials, woman's lot, are near.

1845.

214

TO MRS. BOSE.

A REMONSTRANCE.

I.

Fair Mrs. Bose

She keepeth close,
Yet wide her kindness reaches :

Through wet and cold

Comes Charley bold,
Well packed with grapes and peaches.

II.

When she is nigh,

Her happy eye
A beam to the dark cloud lendeth;

And when away,

A blessed ray
In the blushing peach she sendeth.

III.

Her words, that flow

In music low, Are drowned when the storm-wind blusters;

Yet kind words fly

To friends near by, Disguised in juicy clusters.

IV.

Ah! Mrs. Bose,

She keeps too close, Though far her kindness reaches

That joyous smile

Of the Emerald Isle Is better than grapes and peaches. 1847.

TO A LADY.

UPON RECEIVING A PAIR OF EMBROIDERED SLIPPERS.

Fair fingers, for a poet's feet,

Have woven honours rich and rare; Poetic feet, as is most meet,

Shall celebrate those fingers fair.

Those fingers wrought on a plain illumed

By the warm light of sunny eyesWhat wonder if the landscape bloomed,

Bright as the flowers of Eastern skies!

What wonder, if that landscape stole

The grace and beauty beaming o'er, And the soft splendour of the whole,

Glowed like a smile I've seen before !

Henceforth, where'er my footsteps stray,

New charms shall flash a glory round; My path, with blooming honours gay,

Like summer's foot-prints deck the ground.

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