How well my heart remembers
Beside these camp-fire embers
The eyes that smiled so far away, —
The joy that was November's.

Her voice to laughter moving,
So merrily reproving, —
We wandered through the autumn woods,
And neither thought of loving.

The hills with light were glowing,
The waves in joy were flowing, —
It was not to the clouded sun
The day's delight was owing.

Though through the brown leaves straying,
Our lives seemed gone a-Maying;
We knew not Love was with us there,

A Sober ECLOGUE .

Between two of the People called Quakers.

CALEB. TABITHA.

Beneath the shadow of a beaver hat,
Meek Caleb at a silent meeting sate;
His eye-balls oft' forgot the holy trance,
While Tabitha demure, return'd the glance.
The Meeting ended, Caleb silence broke,
And Tabitha her inward yearnings spoke.

CALEB.

Beloved, see how all things follow love,
Lamb fondleth lamb, and dove disports with dove;
Yet fondled lambs their innocence secure,

O LOVE , sweet Love, who came with rosy sail
And foaming prow across the misty sea!
O Love, brave Love, whose faith was full and free
That lands of sun and gold, which could not fail,
Lay in the west, that bloom no wintry gale
Could blight, and eyes whose love thine own should be,
Called thee, with steadfast voice of prophecy,
To shores unknown!
O Love, poor Love, avail
Thee nothing now thy faiths, thy braveries;
There is no sun, no bloom; a cold wind strips
The bitter foam from off the wave where dips

Taking me hand in hand,
Love led me through his land.
His land bloomed white and red;
His palaces were fair;
Glad people everywhere
Stood smiling.
Then Love said, —

" With all my kingdom wins,
Never my heart begins
To rest; my cruel poor
So rob my rich. By speech,
By look, they overreach,
And plunder every store.

" My rich I love, and make
More rich, for giving's sake.
My poor I scorn; they choose
Their chilly beggary;
My gold is ready, free,
But they forget, refuse.

" My rich I love. I weep

If Heaven would hear my prayer,
My dearest wish would be,
Thy sorrows not to share
But take them all on me;
If Heaven would hear my prayer.

I'd beg with prayers and sighs
That never a tear might flow
From out thy lovely eyes,
If Heaven might grant it so;
Mine be the tears and sighs.

No cloud thy brow should cover,
But smiles each other chase
From lips to eyes all over
Thy sweet and sunny face;
The clouds my heart should cover.

That all thy path be light
Let darkness fall on me;

AT my heart's door
Love standeth, like a king beside
His royal treasury, whose wide
Gates open swing, and cannot hide
Their priceless store.

His touch and hold
Its common things to jewels turned;
In his sweet fires the dross he burned
Away! and thus he won and earned
And made its gold.

So rich I find
Myself in service of this king,
The goods we spare, in alms I fling;
And breathless days too few hours bring
Me to be kind.

To souls whose pain
My heart can scarcely dare to greet

An hour or more she's gone,
And we are left alone,
I and her bird.
At last he twittered sweet,
To hear my loved one's feet,
And I, too, heard.

When she had entered there
He cocked his head with care,
If right or wrong;
But when her voice was heard
A frenzy seized the bird
To rave in song.

" Peace, pet, my love is near,
Her voice I cannot hear
In such a din;
Thou couldst not call more loud
Unto a smiling cloud
That May hides in. "

Now, what his thoughts could be —
If she still spake and he

On LOVE.

Ye stars that sparkle in the midnight skies,
Propitious love shines out in all your eyes;
Nor does the moon the glorious truth conceal,
But darts soft glances thro' her gloomy veil.
The sun comes forth in majesty above,
And kindles, as he goes, the flames of Love;
With gentle beams he warms the teeming earth,
And gives ten thousand various forms their birth.
Whatever shape thou wear'st, thy bright abode
Was from eternity, the mind of God:

On LOVE.

Victorious Love, thou sacred mystery!
What muse in mortal strains can speak of thee?
We feel th' effect, and own thy force divine,
But vainly would the glorious cause define.
In part, thy pow'r in these cold realms is known;
But in the blest celestial seats alone,
Thy triumphs in their splendid heights are shown.
Thy gentle torch, with a propitious light
And spotless flame, burns there for ever bright.
Expressless pleasure, and transporting grace,

SERAPHIC LOVE.

[I.]

Thou beauty's vast abyss, abstract of all
My thoughts can lovely, great, or splendid call;
To thee in heav'nly flames, and pure desires,
My ravish'd soul impatiently aspires.

II.

With admiration, praise, and endless love,
Thou fill'st the wide resplendent worlds above;
And none can rival, or with thee compare,
Of all the bright intelligences there.

III.

What vapours then, what short-liv'd glories be
The fairest idols of our sense to thee?