Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/498

482 MARY E NEALY. [1850-60. He is gone. Yet I am happy, This which wreathes the mountain For I know he'll come again ; With its sweet romance ; Like a bird in fragrant bower This which makes the fountain Sing I, let it shine or rain. Diamond-like to glance. All things in the heaven above me, — Every thing on earth beneath. And the love of childhood Seems to whisper " He does love me." — Flows like yon pure stream. "Words to me he did not breathe — Shaded by the wild-wood. ! it must be that I love him ! Free from passion's gleam. Gushing, rippling, welling From the fount above, To the lone heart telling «  Life, — yes, life is love ! ADA. Then my own bright Ada, Lovely, little blossom Through earth's simoom-breath Of the darken'd earth, Sink, like some Armada, Chasing from my bosom All my hopes in death, Sadness with thy mirth ; If but thou art near me, Brightest sunbeam, wreathing Though all else be gone, 'Round my clouded life ! Darling, never fear me, Sweetest song-bird, breathing I can still live on ! Balm for all its strife ! How the quick light falling Of thy sinless feet. And that clear voice, calling VALENTINE. " Mother," soft and sweet. Banish deepest sorrow As the sparkling wavelet, tripping From my heart and brow, O'er the rocks in playful glee. Lifting up to-morrow As the joyous sunlight, tipping Hope-crowned, from dark now ! With bright hues the dark old tree, As the moon's soft splendor streaming Earth is filled with beauties, O'er the dark and trembling sea — Mountain, stream and wold ; Light, bright light through darkness beam- Life is filled with duties ing Stern, and dark, and cold. Is thy smile, dear one, to me. Yet when all is dreary In the aching breast. But, as on those wavelets gliding, Nature to the weary Leave the rocks to weep and mourn. Never can give rest. As the golden sunbeams, hiding, Leave the tree of beauty shorn, But there is a healing As the gentle moon, declining, For the wounded soul ; Leaves old ocean's breast forlorn, — 'Tis when 'round it stealing So my heart is ever pining. Love's soft murmurs roll. Wlien by fate from thee I'm torn.