Six Songs of Love, Constancy, Romance, Inconstancy, Truth, and Marriage

Oh! yet one smile, tho' dark may lower 
Around thee clouds of woe and ill, 
Let me yet feel that I have power, 
Mid Fate's bleak storms, to soothe thee still. 

Tho' sadness be upon thy brow, 
Yet let it turn, dear love, to me, 
I cannot bear that thou should'st know 
Sorrow I do not share with thee. 

True love's wreath is of mountain flowers, 
They stand the storm and brave the blast, 
And blossom on, so love like ours 
Is sweetest when all else is past. 

Too well I know what storms have frowned, 
And now frown on life's troubled tide; 
Still darker let them gather round, 
They have no power on hearts so tried. 

Then say not that you may not bear, 
To shadow spirit light as mine; 
I shall not shrink, or fear to share 
The darkest fate if it be thine!
 

Oh! say not love was never made 
For heart so light as mine; 
Must love then seek the cypress shade, 
Rear but a gloomy shrine. 

Oh! say not, that for me more meet 
The revelry of youth; 
Or that my wild heart cannot beat 
With deep devoted truth. 

Tho' mirth may many changes ring, 
'Tis but an outward show, 
Even upon the fond dove's wing 
Will varying colours glow. 

Light smiles upon my lip may gleam 
And sparkle o'er my brow, 
'Tis but the glisten of the stream 
That hides the gold below. 

'Tis love that gilds the mirthful hour, 
That lights the smile for me, 
Those smiles would instant lose their power, 
Did they not glance on thee!
 

Oh! come to my slumber 
Sweet dreams of my love, 
I have hung the charmed wreath 
My soft pillow above. 

The roses are linked 
In a chain pure and white; 
And the rose-leaves are wet 
With the dew drops of night. 

The moon was on high 
As I gather'd each flower; 
The dew that then falls 
Has a magical power. 

The Spirit of slumber 
Those roses has blest; 
And sweet are the visions 
They'll bring to my rest. 

Be their spell on my soul, 
So they let me but see 
His dark eyes flash in love 
And his smile glance on me. 

Let sleep bring the image 
Of him far away; 
'Tis worth all the tears 
I shed for him by day. 

I have hung the charmed wreath 
My soft pillow above; 
Then come to my slumber, 
Sweet dreams of my love!
 

How vain to cast my love away 
On bosom false as thine; 
The floweret's bloom, that springs in May, 
Would be a safer shrine 

To build my fondest hopes upon, 
Tho' fragile it may be. 
That flower's smile is not sooner gone 
Than love that trusts to thee. 

Love asks a calm, a gentle home, 
Or else its life is o'er; 
If once you let its pinions roam, 
Oh! then 'tis love no more. 

The aspin's changefuI shade can be 
No shelter for the dove; 
And hearts as varying as that tree, 
Are sure no place for love. 

Hope linger'd long and anxiously, 
O'er failing faith, but now 
I give thee back each heartless sigh, 
Give back each broken vow. 

I'll trust the stay of tulip dyes, 
The calm of yon wild sea, 
The sunshine of the April skies, 
But never more to thee! 
 

Oh! would that love had power to raise 
A little isle for us alone, 
With fairy flowers, and sunny rays, 
The blue sea wave its guardian zone. 

No other step should ever press 
This hidden Eden of the heart, 
And we would share its loveliness, 
From every other thing apart. 

The rose and violet should weep, 
Whene'er our leafy couch was laid, 
The lark should wake our morning sleep, 
The bulbul sing our serenade. 

And we would watch the starry hours, 
And call the moon to hear our vows, 
And we would cull the sweetest flowers, 
And twine fresh chaplets for our brows. 
 

I thought thus of the flowers, the moon, 
This fairy isle for you and me; 
And then I thought how very soon 
How very tired we should be.
 

                  Matrimonial Creed.

HE must be rich whom I could love, 
His fortune clear must be, 
Whether in land or in the funds, 
'Tis all the same to me. 

He must be old whom I could love, 
Then he'll not plague me long; 
In sooth 'twill he a pleasant sight,
To see him borne along 

To where the croaking ravens lurk, 
And where the earth worms dwell: 
A widow's hood will suit my face,
And black becomes me well. 

And he must make a settlement, 
I'll have no man without; 
And when he writes his testament, 
He must not leave me out. 

Oh! such a man as this would suit 
Each wish I here express; 
If he should say, — Will you have me? 
I'll very soon say — Yes! ⁠