Ere he come,--ere the boat by the shining-branched border Of dark elms shoot round, dropping down the proud stream,-- Let me pause, let me strive, in myself make some order, Ere their boat-music sound, ere their broidered flags gleam. Last night we stood earnestly talking together: She entered--that moment his eyes turned from me! Fastened on her dark hair, and her wreath of white heather. As yesterday was, so to-morrow will be. Their love, let me know, must grow strong and yet stronger, Their passion burn more, ere it ceases to burn. They must love--while they must! but the hearts that love longer Are rare--ah! most loves but flow once, and return. I shall suffer--but they will outlive their affection; I shall weep--but their love will be cooling; and he, As he drifts to fatigue, discontent, and dejection, Will be brought, thou poor heart, how much nearer to thee! For cold is his eye to mere beauty, who, breaking The strong band which passion around him hath furled, Disenchanted by habit, and newly awaking, Looks languidly round on a gloom-buried world. Through that gloom he will see but a shadow appearing, Perceive but a voice as I come to his side; --But deeper their voice grows, and nobler their bearing, Whose youth in the fires of anguish hath died. So, to wait! But what notes down the wind, hark! are driving? ’Tis he! ’tis their flag, shooting round by the trees! --Let my turn, if it _will_ come, be swift in arriving! Ah! hope cannot long lighten torments like these. Hast thou yet dealt him, O life, thy full measure? World, have thy children yet bowed at his knee? Hast thou with myrtle-leaf crowned him, O pleasure? --Crown, crown him quickly, and leave him for me. _REQUIESCAT._ Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew: In quiet she reposes; Ah! would that I did too! Her mirth the world required; She bathed it in smiles of glee. But her heart was tired, tired, And now they let her be. Her life was turning, turning, In mazes of heat and sound; But for peace her soul was yearning, And now peace laps her round. Her cabined, ample spirit, It fluttered and failed for breath; To-night it doth inherit The vasty hall of death. _YOUTH AND CALM._