Her soul is in th'absorbing task; To whom, then, doth she write? Nay, watch her still more closely, ask Her own eyes' serious light; Where do they turn, as now her pen Hangs o'er th'unfinished line? Whence fell the tearful gleam that then Did in their dark spheres shine? The summer-parlour looks so dark, When from that sky you turn, And from th'expanse of that green park, You scarce may aught discern. Yet, o'er the piles of porcelain rare, O'er flower-stand, couch, and vase, Sloped, as if leaning on the air, One picture meets the gaze. 'Tis there she turns; you may not see Distinct, what form defines The clouded mass of mystery Yon broad gold frame confines. But look again; inured to shade Your eyes now faintly trace A stalwart form, a massive head, A firm, determined face. Black Spanish locks, a sunburnt cheek A brow high, broad, and white, Where every furrow seems to speak Of mind and moral might. Is that her god? I cannot tell; Her eye a moment met Th'impending picture, then it fell Darkened and dimmed and wet. A moment more, her task is done, And sealed the letter lies; And now, towards the setting sun She turns her tearful eyes. Those tears flow over, wonder not, For by the inscription see In what a strange and distant spot Her heart of hearts must be! Three seas and many a league of land That letter must pass o'er, Ere read by him to whose loved hand 'Tis sent from England's shore. Remote colonial wilds detain Her husband, loved though stern; She, 'mid that smiling English scene, Weeps for his wished return. REGRET. Long ago I wished to leave "The house where I was born;" Long ago I used to grieve, My home seemed so forlorn. In other years, its silent rooms Were filled with haunting fears; Now, their very memory comes O'ercharged with tender tears. Life and marriage I have known. Things once deemed so bright; Now, how utterly is flown Every ray of light! 'Mid the unknown sea, of life I no blest isle have found; At last, through all its wild wave's strife, My bark is homeward bound. Farewell, dark and rolling deep! Farewell, foreign shore! Open, in unclouded sweep, Thou glorious realm before! Yet, though I had safely pass'd That weary, vexed main, One loved voice, through surge and blast Could call me back again. Though the soul's bright morning rose O'er Paradise for me, William! even from Heaven's repose I'd turn, invoked by thee! Storm nor surge should e'er arrest My soul, exalting then: All my heaven was once thy breast, Would it were mine again! PRESENTIMENT.