90 

 TO THE SOUL OF JULIA. 



When the throstle flings its music 



Through the merry, merry glen, 

 And the glowing earth rejoices 



In the morning's light again, 

 O I once more may I be near thee, 



Linger fondly by thy side, 

 Listen to that voice which never 



Breathed a sound to chill or chide. 



Let me see thy soft eyes sparkle 



Through thy flowing sunny hair, 

 With a tender meaning lighted, 



With a love that mocks at care; 

 Let me feel the gentle tremble 



Of thine unresisting hand, 

 As of old when I have clasped it 



In our dreams of fairy-land . 



Let me feel again the pressure 



Of thy fragrant thrilling lip, 

 Softer than the dewy blossom 



Where the wild bee stoops to sip: 

 Give me back that dream of rapture, 



Give me back that matchless time; 

 O ! restore the thoughts they wakened 



In my withered manhood's prime. 



But thou dost not canst not answer 



To my wild and erring strain, 

 That an overwrought spirit weaveth 



To beguile enduring pain ; 

 Oh ! thou dost not canst not scatter 



Even a solitary light, 

 Or a whisper of affection, 



On my cold and cheerless night. 



