82 
PLOEA’S AIBPM. 
Corcliorus. 
IMPATIENCE OE ABSENCE. 
OB that tile day -were gone, and men 
Were lost in slumber’s balmy power! 
Oh that the night were come, for then 
She said she’d meet me in the bower! 
And if the sun would only set 
Behind the blue and mantling sea, — 
But the west seems receding yet, 
And brings no food for hope to me. 
Oh that the night were come, and she 
Were by my side! — her hazel eye, 
And the deep witchery of her free 
And playful lip! — the bright, and high, 
And changing color of her cheek, — 
These have wrought in my soul; unblest. 
They leave a pang too strong to speak. 
And night can only bring me rest. 
But oh! how slow the sun goes o’er. 
As if its home were fixed above! 
And yet until the day is gone, 
I cannot speak with her I love. 
J. 0. Kockweu. 
