How well that youthful vow was kept, Is written on a deathless page-- Vain all regrets, vain tears we've wept, The record lives from age to age. But one who "doeth all things well," Who made us differ from the throng, Has it within his heart to quell This torturing pain of thirst, ere long. And you, whose soul is all aglow With fire Prometheus brought from heaven, Shall in some future surely know Joys for which high desires are given. Not always in a restless pain Shall beat your heart, or throb your brow; Not always shall you sigh in vain For hope's fruition, hidden now. Beloved, are your tear-drops dried? The moon is riding high above:-- Though each from other's parted wide, We have not parted early love. And tho' you never are forgot, The moonrise in the east shall be The token that my evening thought Returns to home, and love and thee! VERSES FOR M----. The river on the east Ripples its azure flood within my sight; And, darting from the west, Are "sunset arrows," feathered with red light. The northern breeze has hung His wintry harp upon some giant pine; And the pale stars among, I see the star I love to name as mine: But toward the south I turn my eager eyes-- Beyond its flushed horizon my heart lies. The snow-clad isles of ice, Launched by wild Boreas from a northern shore, Journey the way my eyes Turn with an envious longing evermore-- Smiling back to the sky Its own pink blush, and, floating out of sight, Bear south the softest dye Of northern heavens, to fade in southern night:-- My eyes but look the way my joys are gone, And the ice-islands travel not alone. The untrod fields of snow, Glow with the rosy blush of parting day; And fancy asks if so The snow is stained with sunset far away; And if some face, like mine, Its forehead pressed against the window-pane, Peers northward, with the shine Of the pole-star reflected in eyes' rain: "Ah yes," my heart says, "it is surely so;" And, like a bound bird, flutters hard to go. Sad eyes, that, blurred with tears, Gaze into darkness, gaze no more in vain Whence no loved face appears, And no voice comes to lull the heart's fond pain! Sad heart! restrain thy throbs, For beauty, like a presence out of heaven, Rests over all, and robs Sorrow of pain, and makes earth seem forgiven:-- Twilight the fair eve ushers in with grace, And rose clouds melt for stars to take their place. AUTUMNALIA.