Since first that music touched thy heart and mine,
How many a joy and pain o'er both have past,--
The joy, a light too precious long to shine,--
The pain, a cloud whose shadows always last.
And tho' that lay would like the voice of home
Breathe o'er our ear, 'twould waken now a sigh--
Ah! not, as then, for fancied woes to come,
But, sadder far, for real bliss gone by.
CUPID ARMED.
Place the helm on thy brow,
In thy hand take the spear;--
Thou art armed, Cupid, now,
And thy battle-hour is near.
March on! march on! thy shaft and bow
Were weak against such charms;
March on! march on! so proud a foe
Scorns all but martial arms.
See the darts in her eyes,
Tipt with scorn, how they shine!
Every shaft, as it flies,
Mocking proudly at thine.
March on! march on! thy feathered darts
Soft bosoms soon might move;
But ruder arms to ruder hearts
Must teach what 'tis to love.
Place the helm on thy brow;
In thy hand take the spear,--
Thou art armed, Cupid, now,
And thy battle-hour is near.
ROUND THE WORLD GOES.
Round the world goes, by day and night,
While with it also round go we;
And in the flight of one day's light
An image of all life's course we see.
Round, round, while thus we go round,
The best thing a man can do,
Is to make it, at least, a _merry_-go-round,
By--sending the wine round too.
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