Thus, and because my life was all too fair, I sought to color it with thoughts I nursed In sylvan solitudes: and in the air Of these soft, silent influences, I first Saw, or felt, rather, that the shadow fell Upon my pathway from the light behind-- The light of youth's first joyousness. Ah, well, If it had stayed there, nor been more unkind! My earliest sorrow was a flower's death-- At which I wept until my swollen eyes Refused to shed more tears--just that my wreath One morn in autumn lacked its choicest dyes. So, knowing what it was to have a loss, I went on losing, and the shadow grew Darker and longer, 'till it lies across My pathway to the measure of my view. We all remember sorrow's first impress-- No matter whether we had cause to grieve, Or whether sad in very willfulness-- The lesson is the same that we receive. And afterwards, when the great shadow falls-- The tempest--when the lightning's flash reveals The darkness brooding o'er us, and appals Hope by the terror of the stroke it deals-- _Then_, how the shadow hugs us in its fold! We see no light behind, and none to come; But dumbly shiver in the gloom and cold, Or with despair lie down, and wait our doom. Sweet, press thy cheek upon my own again-- Even now my life's dark ghost is haunting nigh: Sing me to sleep with some old favorite strain-- Some gentle poet's loving lullaby; For I would dream, and in my dream forget Our twofold life is full of shadows set. SOUVENIR. You ask me, "Do you think of me?" Dear, thoughts of thee are like this river, Which pours itself into the sea, Yet empties its own channel never. All other thoughts are like these sail Drifting the river's surface over; _They_ veer about with every gale-- The _river_ keeps its course forever. So deep and still, so strong and true, The current of my soul sets thee-ward, Thy river I, my ocean you, And all myself am running seaward. I ONLY WISH TO KNOW. Pray do not take the kiss again I risked so much in getting, Nor let my blushes make you vain To your and my regretting. I'm sure I've heard your sex repeat A thousand times or so, That stolen kisses are most sweet-- I only wished to know! I own 'twas not so neatly done As you know how to do it, And that the fright out-did the fun, But still I do not rue it. I can afford the extra beat My heart took at your "Oh!" Which plainly said _that_ kiss was sweet-- _When I so wished to know!_ Nay, I will not give back the kiss, Nor will I take a second; _Creme de la creme_ of pain and bliss This one shall e'er be reckoned. The pain was mine, the bliss was--_ours_, You smile to hear it so; But the same thought was surely yours, As I have cause to know.