The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies, where pearls lie deep; He was the lov’d of all, yet none O’er his low bed may weep. One sleeps where southern vines are dress’d Above the noble slain, He wrapt his colours round his breast, On a blood-red field of Spain. And one, o’er _her_ the myrtle showers Its leaves, by soft winds fann’d, She faded ’midst Italian bowers, The last of that bright band, And parted thus, _they_ rest, who played Beneath the same green tree, Whose voices mingled as they pray’d Around one parent knee! They that with smiles lit up the hall, And cheer’d with song the hearth— Alas for Love! if _thou_ wert all, And nought beyond on earth!” “Peace be around thee, wherever thou rovest, May life be for thee one summer’s day, And all that thou wishest, & all that thou lovest Come smiling around thy sunny way— If sorrow e’er this calm should break May ee’n thy tears pass off so lightly, That like spring show’rs, they’ll only make The smiles that follow shine more brightly. As half in shade, and half in sun, This world along its path advances, May that side the sun’s upon Be all that e’er shall meet thy glances.” E WOLCOTT Litchfield May 20^{th} 1826: [Illustration: PL. XLVI.—LOVE GROVE OR LOVE’S ALTAR ON THE BANTAM, IN WATER-COLOR From Album of Mary Peck ] “The charms which blooming beauty shews From faces heavenly fair, We to the lily & the rose, With semblance apt, compare. With semblance apt; for ah! how soon, How soon they all decay! The lily droops, the rose is gone, And beauty fades away. But when bright Virtue shines confess’d, With sweet discretion join’d, When mildness calms the peaceful breast, And wisdom guides the mind. Beyond the reach of time or fate These graces shall endure, Still, like the passion they create, Eternal, constant, pure.—” Litchfield May 27^{th} 1826 _Frederick Wolcott_ “I have nothing of my own Miss Peck, more worthy of a place in your _album_ than the alternations of winter weather here in Litchfield which I have thus “done into English verse.”” J^{NO} PIERPONT