INVOCATION TO MISERY.

COME, be happy!-sit by me,

Shadow-vested Misery :

Coy, unwilling, silent bride,

Mourning in thy robe of pride,

Desolation-deified!

Come, be happy!-sit near me :
Sad as I may seem to thee,
I am happier far than thou,
Lady, whose imperial brow
Is endiademed with woe.

Misery! we have known each other,

Like a sister and a brother

Living in the same lone home,

Many years-we must live some

Years and ages yet to come.

'Tis an evil lot, and yet

Let us make the most of it;

If love lives when pleasure dies,

We will love, till in our eyes

This heart's Hell seem Paradise.

Come, be happy!-lie thee down
On the fresh grass newly mown,
Where the Grasshopper doth sing
Merrily-one joyous thing

In a world of sorrowing!

There our tent shall be the willow,

And thine arm shall be my pillow;

Sounds and odours sorrowful

Because they once were sweet, shall lull

Us to slumber, deep and dull.

Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter
With a love thou darest not utter.

Thou art murmuring, thou art weeping, Whilst my burning bosom 's leaping.

Kiss me ;-oh! thy lips are cold:
Round my neck thine arms enfold-

They are soft, but chill and dead;

We may dream, in that long sleep, That we are not those who weep;

E'en as Pleasure dreams of thee,

Life-deserting Misery,

Thou mayst dream of her with me.