Port Gibson Herald

POETRY
From the Columbus (Miss.) Whig.
TO MISS C. C
BY PETER PAPERIWASTER
The passions of my youth, have all been wasted
And now I live, without a hope or fear,
The world is of bright fancy's veil divested,
And in their real hues, all things appear;
"Tis only when I hear the music stealing,
From thy sweet lips, this gloominess will flee.
And then, the fountains of my heart unsealing
All the warm feelings, which lay there congealing,
Are poured on thee.
I'd think I love, had I not lost the power,
To yield again, to love's entrancing dream,
But thoughts of thee, will come in each long hour,
When all is gloomy, like a joyous beam
Of sunlight, to a captive's dungeon, flinging
A spell upon my spirit, and to free
My soul, from the dark mem'ries to it clinging,
And when I hear a song bird, sweetly singing
I think of thee.
I do not love thee,—but when I am tempted,
To sin or folly, I will think of thee,
Thy voice of melody, and be exempted,
From all of earth, that in my heart may be;
I'll think of thee, when bitter thoughts are throwing,
Their shade upon me, and that shade will flee.
And when the tide of life is brighter flowing
To gladden more the heart, with pleasure glowing,
I'll think of thee.
When from thy sky, hope's thousand stars have faded,
And life's dark lore, has scattered all thy dreams,
When thy sweet face, with mournfulness is shaded,
And earth unto the heart, all worthless seems;
Remember, in that hour, whose certain coming,
Thy heart, perhaps, already doth foresee,
That in this breast, thy image, bright is blooming,
The light of memory, life's waste illuming,
With thoughts of thee.