There was a beautiful spirit in her air, As of a fay at revel. Hidden springs, Too delicate for knowledge, should be there, Moving her gently like invisible wings; And then her lip out-blushing the red fruit That bursts with ripeness in the Autumn time, And the arch eye you would not swear was mute, And the clear cheek, as of a purer clime, And the low tone, soft as a pleasant flute Sent over water with the vesper chime; And then her forehead with its loose, dark curl, And the bewildering smile that made her mouth Like a torn rose-leaf moistened of the South-- She has an angel's gifts--the radiant girl! ANDRE'S REQUEST. It is not the fear of death That damps my brow; It is not for another breath I ask thee now; I can die with a lip unstirr'd And a quiet heart-- Let but this prayer be heard Ere I depart. I can give up my mother's look-- My sister's kiss; I can think of love--yet brook A death like this! I can give up the young fame I burn'd to win-- All--but the spotless name I glory in! Thine is the power to give, Thine to deny, Joy for the hour I live-- Calmness to die. By all the brave should cherish, By my dying breath, I ask that I may perish With a soldier's death! DISCRIMINATION. I used to love a radiant girl-- Her lips were like a rose leaf torn; Her heart was as free as a floating curl, Or a breeze at morn; Her step as light as a Peri's daughter, And her eye as soft as gliding water. Witching thoughts like things half hid Lurk'd beneath her silken lashes, And a modest droop of the veined lid Oft hid their flashes-- But to me the charm was more complete As the blush stole up its fringe to meet. Paint me love as a honey bee! Rosy mouths are things to sip; Nothing was ever so sweet to me As Marion's lip-- Till I learned that a deeper magic lies In kissing the lids of her closed eyes. Her sweet brow I seldom touch, Save to part her raven hair; Her bright cheek I gaze on much, Her white hand is fair; But none of these--I've tried them all-- Is like kissing her eyes as the lashes fall. THE SOLITARY. Alone! alone! How drear it is Always to be alone! In such a depth of wilderness, The only thinking one! The waters in their path rejoice, The trees together sleep-- But I have not one silver voice Upon my ear to creep! The sun upon the silent hills His mesh of beauty weaves, There's music in the laughing rills And in the whispering leaves. The red deer like the breezes fly To meet the bounding roe, But I have not a human sigh To cheer me as I go.