SECOND LIFE.
After life's departing sigh,
To the spots I loved most dearly,
In the sunshine and the shadow,
By the fountain welling clearly,
Through the wood and o'er the meadow,
Flit I like a butterfly.
There a gentle pair I spy.
Bound the maiden's tresses flying,
From her chaplet I discover
All that I had lost in dying,
Still with her and with her lover,
Who so happy then as I?
For she smiles with laughing eyes;
And his lips to her he presses,
Vows of passion interchanging,
Stifling her with sweet caresses,
O'er her budding beauties ranging;
And around the twain I fly.
And she sees me fluttering nigh;
And beneath his ardour trembling,
Starts she up—then off I hover.
"Look there, dearest!" Thus dissembling,
Speaks the maiden to her lover—
"Come and catch that butterfly!"
TO MY MISTRESS.
All that's lovely speaks of thee!
When the glorious sun appeareth,
'Tis thy harbinger to me:
