THE sunset’s sweet and holy blush Is imaged in the sleeping stream, All nature’s deep and solemn hush Is like the silence of a dream; And peace seems brooding like a dove O’er scenes to musing spirits dear— Sweet Mary, ’tis the hour of love, And I were blest if thou wert here. The myriad flowers of every hue Are sinking to their evening rest, Each with a timid drop of dew Soft folded to its sleeping breast The birds within yon silent grove Are dreaming that the spring is near— Sweet Mary, ’tis the hour of love, And I were blest if thou wert here. On yon white cloud the night-wind furls Its lone and dewy wing to sleep, And the sweet stars look out like pearls Through the clear waves of heaven’s blue deep; The pale mists float around, above, Like spirits of a holier sphere— Sweet Mary, ’tis the hour of love, And I were blest if thou wert here. The pale full moon, in silent pride, O’er yon dark wood is rising now, As lovely as when by thy side I saw it shining on thy brow; It lights the dew-drops of the grove As hope’s bright smile lights beauty’s tear— Sweet Mary, ’tis the hour of love, And I were blest if thou wert here. Ah! as I muse, a strange, wild thrill Steals o’er the fibres of my frame— A gentle presence seems to fill My heart with love and life and flame; I feel thy spirit round me move, I know thy soul is hovering near— Sweet Mary, ’tis the hour of love, And I am blest, for thou art here. * * * * * AILEEN AROON.[1] BY WILLIAM P. MULCHINOCK. GIRL of the forehead fair, Aileen, aroon! Girl of the raven hair, Aileen, aroon! Girl of the laughing eye, Blue as the cloudless sky, For thee I pine and sigh, Aileen, aroon. Girl of the winning tongue, Aileen, aroon! Flower of our maidens young, Aileen, aroon! Sad was our parting day, Fast flowed my tears away, Cold was my heart as clay, Aileen, aroon. When o’er the heaving sea, Aileen, aroon! Sailed the ship fast and free, Aileen, aroon! Wailing, as women wail, I watched her snowy sail Bend in the rising gale, Aileen, aroon. I watched her course afar, Aileen, aroon! Till rose the evening star, Aileen, aroon! Then fell the shades of night, Wrapping all from my sight Save the stars’ pensive light, Aileen, aroon. Stranger to grief is sleep, Aileen, aroon! What could I do but weep? Aileen, aroon! Worlds would tempt in vain, Me, to live through again That night of bitter pain, Aileen, aroon.