MY SOUL IS DARK.

I.

MY SOUL IS DARK-Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear;

And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.

If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again;

If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

"Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain:

II.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,

Or else this heavy heart will burst;

For it hath been by sorrow nurst,

And ached in sleepless silence long;

And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,

And break at once-or yield to song.

I SAW THEE WEEP.

I.

I SAW THEE WEEP-the big bright tear

Came o'er that eye of blue;

And then methought it did appear

A violet dropping dew:

I saw thee smile-the sapphire's blaze

Beside thee ceased to shine;

It could not match the living rays

That filled that glance of thine.

II.

As clouds from yonder sun receive

A deep and mellow die,

Which scarce the shade of coming eve

Can banish from the sky,

Those smiles unto the moodiest mind

Their own pure joy impart;

Their sunshine leaves a glow behind

That lightens o'er the heart.

THY DAYS ARE DONE.

I.

THY DAYS ARE DONE, thy fame begun;

Thy country's strains record

The triumphs of her chosen Son,

The slaughters of his sword!

The deeds he did, the fields he won,

The freedom he restored!