Six to half a score of summers Make the sweetest of the "teens"-- Not too young to guess, dear Lily, What a lover means. Laughing girl, and thoughtful woman, I am puzzled how to woo-- Shall I praise, or pique her, Lily? Tell me what to do. "Silly lover, if thy Lily Like her sister lilies be, Thou must woo, if thou wouldst wear her, With a simple plea. "Love's the lover's only magic, Truth the very subtlest art; Love that feigns, and lips that flatter, Win no modest heart. "Like the dewdrop in my bosom, Be thy guileless language, youth; Falsehood buyeth falsehood only, Truth must purchase truth. "As thou talkest at the fireside, With the little children by-- As thou prayest in the darkness, When thy God is nigh-- "With a speech as chaste and gentle, And such meanings as become Ear of child, or ear of angel, Speak, or be thou dumb. "Woo her thus, and she shall give thee Of her heart the sinless whole, All the girl within her bosom, And her woman's soul." The Stream is Flowing from the West The stream is flowing from the west; As if it poured from yonder skies, It wears upon its rippling breast The sunset's golden dyes; And bearing onward to the sea, 'T will clasp the isle that holdeth thee. I dip my hand within the wave; Ah! how impressionless and cold! I touch it with my lip, and lave My forehead in the gold. It is a trivial thought, but sweet, Perhaps the wave will kiss thy feet. Alas! I leave no trace behind-- As little on the senseless stream As on thy heart, or on thy mind; Which was the simpler dream, To win that warm, wild love of thine, Or make the water whisper mine? Dear stream! some moons must wax and wane Ere I again shall cross thy tide, And then, perhaps, a viewless chain Will drag me to her side, To love with all my spirit's scope, To wish, do everything but--hope. Vox et Præterea Nihil I've been haunted all night, I've been haunted all day, By the ghost of a song, by the shade of a lay, That with meaningless words and profusion of rhyme, To a dreamy and musical rhythm keeps time. A simple, but still a most magical strain, Its dim monotones have bewildered my brain With a specious and cunning appearance of thought, I seem to be catching but never have caught.