182 



TO 



"That spot of hallowed ground 



By many a meeting known, 



With shadowing alders fenced around 



And flowers of spring o'ergrown." 



Lord Francis Eo»rtov. 



[" Oh ! what is now my name to thee, 

 Though once nought seemed so dear ? 

 Perhaps a jest in hours of glee. 

 To please some idle ear." 



John Ciabb. 



Am I remember'd now, sweet girl. 



Am I remember'd now ? 

 Can sadd'ning recollection fling 



One shadow on thy brow ? 

 Oh ! dost thou ever think of me 



Within thy joyous bow'r? 

 Or picture forth my form in dreams 



At night's mysterious hour ? 



Dost thou recal the magic time 



When, wand'ring by thy side, 

 I dar'd to tell thee of my love. 



And woo thee for my bride ? 

 Dost thou retrace, in loneliness, 



The wild fantastic tree. 

 Beneath whose knotted boughs, I, first 



Impassion'd, gaz'd on thee ? 

 The narrow garden-path, the shade. 



The brook that babbled by, 

 The branches bent with ruddy fruit. 



The clear October sky ? 

 The gentle girl whose blushing brow. 



With soft confusion dyed, 

 The golden mazes of her hait 



All drooping strove to hide ? 



And bending o'er her sylphid form 



The dark-eyed one who stood. 

 With fond imploring looks of love. 



Beneath that autumn wood ?— 

 Those days are fled — for ever fled 



As summer sun-set hues, 

 And hopes long bury'd in the past 



No fancy now renews. 

 And yet that ancient tree is green- 

 Its blossom pearly white. 

 While Love — poor Love, alas ! has met 



A chiU destroying blight. 

 Those days — those bright Elysian days 



That ne'er shall dawn again — 

 That tree — that unforgotten girl. 



Still linger on my brain,— 

 At mom, at noon, at pensive eve, 



When tender thoughts arise. 

 Yea I in the visions of the night 



Still — stiU before mine eyes ! 

 Dost thou remember these ? alas ! 



Long intervening years 

 Have swept from thee the dream that I 



Yet consecrate in tears. 



