158 



TO MARY. 



I would banish, for a while, 



Mary ! thy soft tone and smile. 



So I wander far away 



From their fascinating sway ; 



Yet, in desert or on hill 



They are near me — ^with me — still. 



When the sun is on the mountain. 

 And the lightly leaping fountain 

 Shines rejoicing on its way 

 'Neath the golden moring ray ; 

 I am thinking, all the while, 

 Mary ! of thy timid smile. 



When the bird of dawn is singing. 

 And the woods around are ringing 

 With the soul-awaking notes 

 Of a thousand joyous throats, 

 I am musing — still and lone 

 Mary ! on thy gentle tone. 



When the dancer's stirring measure 



Calls the young and glad to pleasure 



I am spiritless among 



That light-hearted smiling throng ; 



In the group I cannot see 



Mary ! one to love like thee. 



In the solitary night 



When the silent skies are dight 



With the stars, in wreathed splendour, 



Glorious — yet serene and tender, 



I am thinking, on my way, 



Mary ! thou art pure as they. 



Though soft slumber seal mine eyes 

 Thy glad image never flies : 

 Should my weary head be laid 

 In the deepest — darkest shade 

 Still around my rest are thrown 

 Mary ! thy sweet smile and tone. 



Leon. 



Devonshire Place. 



