Awake thee, boy, awake thee, boy,
Too long thy soul is sleeping;
And thou mayst from this minute's joy
Wake to eternal weeping.
Oh, think, this world is not for thee;
Tho' hard its links to sever;
Tho' sweet and bright and dear they be,
Break or thou'rt lost for ever.
THERE'S SOMETHING STRANGE.
A BUFFALO SONG.
There's something strange, I know not what,
Come o'er me,
Some phantom I've for ever got
Before me.
I look on high and in the sky
'Tis shining;
On earth, its light with all things bright
Seems twining.
In vain I try this goblin's spells
To sever;
Go where I will, it round me dwells
For ever.
And then what tricks by day and night
It plays me;
In every shape the wicked sprite
Waylays me.
Sometimes like two bright eyes of blue
'Tis glancing;
Sometimes like feet, in slippers neat,
Comes dancing.
By whispers round of every sort
I'm taunted.
Never was mortal man, in short,
So haunted.
NOT FROM THEE.
Not from thee the wound should come,
No, not from thee.
Care not what or whence my doom,
So not from thee!
Cold triumph! first to make
This heart thy own;
And then the mirror break
Where fixt thou shin'st alone.
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