3LiIac. 47 
"When first thou earnest, gentle, shy, and fond, 
My purest, first-born love, and dearest treasure, 
My heart received thee with a joy beyond 
All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure ; 
Nor thought that any love again might be 
So deep and strong, as that I felt for thee. 
Mrs. NoHon. 
I love thee, — and I live ! The moon, 
Who sees me from her calm above. 
The wind, who weaves her dim, soft tune » 
About me, know how much I love ! 
Naught else, save night, and the lonely hour, 
E'er heard my passion wild and strong ; 
Even thx)u yet deem'st not of thy power, 
Unless thou read'st aright my song ! 
Barry Cornwall. 
She loves — but knows not whom she loves. 
Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; — 
Like one who meets, in Indian groves, * 
Some beauteous bird without a name. 
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze. 
From isles in the undiscovered seas. 
To show his plumage for a day 
To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 
Mowe. 
