One year had passed since first my sight Was gladdened by her girlish charms, When on a rapturous summer night I clasped her in possessing arms. And now ten years have rolled away, And left such blessings as their dower; I owe her tenfold at this hour The love that lit our wedding-day. For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, My fancy sees, by love refined, A warmer and a dearer charm By wedlock's mystic hands entwined,-- A golden coil of wifely cares That years have forged, the loving joy That guards the curly-headed boy Asleep an hour ago upstairs. A fair young mother, pure as fair, A matron heart and virgin soul! The flickering light that crowns her hair Seems like a saintly aureole. A tender sense upon me falls That joy unmerited is mine, And in this pleasant twilight shine My perfect bliss myself appals. Come back! my darling, strayed so far Into the realm of fantasy,-- Let thy dear face shine like a star In love-light beaming over me. My melting soul is jealous, sweet, Of thy long silence' drear eclipse; O kiss me back with living lips, To life, love, lying at thy feet! IN A GRAVEYARD. In the dewy depths of the graveyard I lie in the tangled grass, And watch, in the sea of azure, The white cloud-islands pass. The birds in the rustling branches Sing gaily overhead; Grey stones like sentinel spectres Are guarding the silent dead. The early flowers sleep shaded In the cool green noonday glooms; The broken light falls shuddering On the cold white face of the tombs. Without, the world is smiling In the infinite love of God, But the sunlight fails and falters When it falls on the churchyard sod. On me the joyous rapture Of a heart's first love is shed, But it falls on my heart as coldly As sunlight on the dead. THE PRAIRIE. The skies are blue above my head, The prairie green below, And flickering o'er the tufted grass The shifting shadows go, Vague-sailing, where the feathery clouds Fleck white the tranquil skies, Black javelins darting where aloft The whirring pheasant flies. A glimmering plain in drowsy trance The dim horizon bounds, Where all the air is resonant With sleepy summer sounds,-- The life that sings among the flowers, The lisping of the breeze, The hot cicala's sultry cry, The murmurous dream of bees. The butterfly--a flying flower-- Wheels swift in flashing rings, And flutters round his quiet kin, With brave flame-mottled wings. The wild Pinks burst in crimson fire The Phlox' bright clusters shine, And Prairie-Cups are swinging free To spill their airy wine.