Three Song-Poems

Dreaming for ever, vainly dreaming,
    Life to the last, pursues its flight;
Day hath its visions fairly beaming,
    But false as those of night.
The one illusion, the other real,
    But both the same brief dreams at last;
And when we grasp the bliss ideal,
    Soon as it shines, 'tis past.

Here, then, by this dim lake reposing,
    Calmly I'll watch, while light and gloom
Flit o'er its face till night is closing--
    Emblem of life's short doom!
But tho', by turns, thus dark and shining,
    'Tis still unlike man's changeful day,
Whose light returns not, once declining,
    Whose cloud, once come, will stay.

        There came a nymph dancing
         Gracefully, gracefully,
        Her eye a light glancing
         Like the blue sea;
        And while all this gladness
         Around her steps hung,
        Such sweet notes of sadness
         Her gentle lips sung,
That ne'er while I live from my memory shall fade
The song or the look of that young Indian maid.

        Her zone of bells ringing
         Cheerily, cheerily,
        Chimed to her singing
         Light echoes of glee;
        But in vain did she borrow
         Of mirth the gay tone,
        Her voice spoke of sorrow,
         And sorrow alone.
Nor e'er while I live from my memory shall fade
The song or the look of that young Indian maid.

Down in yon summer vale,
    Where the rill flows.
Thus said a Nightingale
    To his loved Rose:--
"Tho' rich the pleasures
"Of song's sweet measures,
"Vain were its melody,
"Rose, without thee."

Then from the green recess
    Of her night-bower,
Beaming with bashfulness,
    Spoke the bright flower:--
"Tho' morn should lend her
"Its sunniest splendor,
"What would the Rose be,
"Unsung by thee?"

Thus still let Song attend
    Woman's bright way;
Thus still let woman lend
    Light to the lay.
Like stars thro' heaven's sea
Floating in harmony
Beauty should glide along
Circled by Song.