Literary Cadet And Rhode Island Statesman

POETRY.

The sky is clear, the sun is bright
Upon the swelling earth;
The tender dew-drops sparkle light,
To grace the morning's birth.
Soft music rings from out the wood.
Sweet scents are on the air;
Mild zephyrs sport them o'er the flood,
And life and joy are there.

My morning sun, and morning sky,
Were lovelier by far;
The hues of fancy hovered nigh,
And hope beamed like a star.
Then the wild glance of beauty's eye,
The crimson of its cheek,
The thrilling music of its sigh,
No word might ever speak;
And the deep joy, and fervent rush
Of the heart's tenderness
Would o'er my happy spirits gush,
In dreamy blessedness.

Twas but a dream!—and yet I would
That dream might come to me
Again, to cheer my solitude
With its sweet witchery—
But ah!—oh no! 'tis fled for aye,
And left this heart so drear,
It does but mock the light of day—
I hope aro on its bier!

HAROLD.