Dost mind how she, whom thou dost love More than in light words may be said, A coronal of amaranth wove About thy duly-sobered head, Which kept itself a moment still That she might have her gentle will? Thy childlike grace and purity O keep forevermore, And as thou art, still strive to be, That on the farther shore Of Time's dark waters ye may meet, And she may twine around thy brow A wreath of those bright flowers that grow Where blessèd angels set their feet! ISABEL. As the leaf upon the tree, Fluttering, gleaming constantly, Such a lightsome thing was she, My gay and gentle Isabel! Her heart was fed with love-springs sweet, And in her face you'd see it beat To hear the sound of welcome feet-- And were not mine so, Isabel? She knew it not, but she was fair, And like a moonbeam was her hair, That falls where flowing ripples are In summer evenings, Isabel! Her heart and tongue were scarce apart, Unwittingly her lips would part, And love came gushing from her heart, The woman's heart of Isabel. So pure her flesh-garb, and like dew, That in her features glimmered through Each working of her spirit true, In wondrous beauty, Isabel! A sunbeam struggling through thick leaves, A reaper's song mid yellow sheaves, Less gladsome were;--my spirit grieves To think of thee, mild Isabel! I know not when I loved thee first; Not loving, I had been accurst, Yet, having loved, my heart will burst, Longing for thee, dear Isabel! With silent tears my cheeks are wet, I would be calm, I would forget, But thy blue eyes gaze on me yet, When stars have risen, Isabel. The winds mourn for thee, Isabel, The flowers expect thee in the dell, Thy gentle spirit loved them well; And I for thy sake, Isabel! The sunsets seem less lovely now Than when, leaf checkered, on thy brow They fell as lovingly as thou Lingered'st till moon-rise, Isabel! At dead of night I seem to see Thy fair, pale features constantly Upturned in silent prayer for me, O'er moveless clasped hands, Isabel! I call thee, thou dost not reply; The stars gleam coldly on thine eye, As like a dream thou flittest by, And leav'st me weeping, Isabel! MUSIC. I.