The New Hampshire Gazette

POETRY.

GOOD NIGHT.

We met but in one giddy dance—
Good night joined hands with greeting,
And twenty thousand things may chance
Before our second meeting.

Good night to thee lady!—though many
Have joined in the dance of to-night,
Thy form was the fairest of any,
Where all was seductive and bright;
Thy smile was the softest and dearest,
Thy form the most sylph like of all.
And the voice the most gladsome and clearest
That e'er held a partner in thrall.

Good night to thee lady—'tis over,—
The waltz, the quadrille, and the song,
The whispered "farewell" of the lover,
The heartless "adieu" of the throng;
The heart that was throbbing with pleasure,
The eyelid that long'd for repose,
The beaux that were dreaming of treasure,
The girls that were dreaming of beaux.

'Tis over—the lights are all dying,
The coaches all driven away,
And many a fair one is sighing,
And many a false one is gay;
And beauty counts over her numbers
Of conquests, as homeward she drives;
And some are gone home to their slumbers,
And some are gone back to their wives.

And I while my cab in the shower,
Is waiting, the last at the door,
And looking all round for the flower
That fell from yon wreath on the floor;
I'll seek it—if but to remind me,
Though withered and faded it be,
Wherever next season may find me
Of England, of Almacks, and thee.

There are tones that will haunt us, tho' lonely
Our path be o'er mountain or sea,
There are looks that will part from us only
When memory ceases to be;
There are hopes our burdens can lighten,
Though toilsome and steep be the way,
And dreams that, like moonlight can brighten,
With a light that is dearer than day.

There are names that we cherish, though nameless,
For aye on the lips they may be,
There are hearts that, though fettered, are tameless,
And thoughts unexpressed, but still free!

And some are too grave or a rover,
And some for a husband too light;—
The ball and my dream are all over,—
Good night to thee, lady!—Good night!