I call to aid my best resolve, My better genius, sage reflection, To ponder deep as years revolve, My life’s last close, without dejection; Resigned my wasting taper gaze, Such thought awaked the flick’ring blaze. AN ADDRESS TO THE DAISY. Sweet, modest Daisy, floweret of the spring, Just peering ’bove the ground in lowly guise, With lifted stem half shrinking with surprise, To be so bold to tend thy offering, Graceful in form, thou coy and lovely thing, Why screen thy head, o’erstreaked with crimson dyes, From man’s too ardent gaze; soft vernal signs Through yonder brake, with whispering cadence fling Their wafted sweetness on the breezes borne; Or fan thy cheek, or kiss the tremulous dew Hung pearl-like on thy petals seen at morn. Yon burnished-coated insect he doth sue, When found thy lone retreat with wooing horn, Ah! why, thou bonny gem, hide from our view. I’VE BEEN A-MUSING. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing, Lonely and pensive by a river’s side, Half-dreaming sunk, my moody self a-losing, List’ning the waters tinkling as they glide; So hasteneth on, methought, life’s passing tide. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing, Sky-soaring warbler thrill’d the air above; The osiers dank ’neath breezes light were moving: Scarce stirr’d the stream, whose haunts the scale tribe rove, The trem’lous trout it paused, the rushes move. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing, The playful trout hath glided far away; Blithe lark has ceas’d the note of her fond choosing, And hushed the sweet pipe of her am’rous lay, Thus speedeth earth’s delights that will not stay. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing, A lovely child came bounding forth in glee; I dwelt upon its happiness perusing, Embrace I thought while you can happy be, Ah! yes the roseate hours take wings and bird-like flee. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing; There cross’d my sight a youth of noble air, With bold light step, that told of courage rising; His eagle eye glanced bright renown to share; He sought proud fame, which proved delusion’s snare. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing; A fair and tim’rous one, with virgin grace, Came tripping soft, her presence show’d so pleasing; A crimson blush suffused her lovely face; How soon, methought, will years its bloom efface. I’ve been a-musing, a-musing, a-musing, Yon form’s athletic sun-burnt features tell Of manhood’s prime, glory all vain devising, And anxious thought that doth his bosom swell, They lead but to the grave where all must dwell.