I'M Pleased, And Yet I'M Sad.

When twilight steals along the ground, And all the bells are ringing round, One, two, three, four, and five, I at my study window sit, And, wrapp'd in many a musing fit, To bliss am all alive.

But though impressions calm and sweet Thrill round my heart a holy heat, And I am inly glad; The tear-drop stands in either eye, And yet I cannot tell thee why, I'm pleased, and yet I'm sad.

The silvery rack that flies away, Like mortal life or pleasure's ray, Does that disturb my breast? Nay, what have I, a studious man, To do with life's unstable plan, Or pleasure's fading vest?

Is it that here I must not stop, But o'er yon blue hill's woody top Must bend my lonely way? No, surely no! for give but me My own fireside, and I shall be At home where'er I stray.

Then is it that yon steeple there, With music sweet shall fill the air, When thou no more canst hear? Oh, no! oh, no! for then, forgiven, I shall be with my God in heaven, Released from every fear.

Then whence it is I cannot tell, But there is some mysterious spell That holds me when I'm glad; And so the tear-drop fills my eye, When yet in truth I know not why, Or wherefore I am sad.

SOLITUDE.

It is not that my lot is low, That bids this silent tear to flow; It is not grief that bids me moan; It is that I am all alone.

In woods and glens I love to roam, When the tired hedger hies him home; Or by the woodland pool to rest, When pale the star looks on its breast.

Yet when the silent evening sighs, With hallow'd airs and symphonies, My spirit takes another tone, And sighs that it is all alone.

The autumn leaf is sere and dead, It floats upon the water's bed; I would not be a leaf, to die Without recording sorrow's sigh!

The woods and winds, with sullen wail, Tell all the same unvaried tale; I've none to smile when I am free, And when I sigh, to sigh with me.

Yet in my dreams a form I view, That thinks on me, and loves me too; I start, and when the vision's flown, I weep that I am all alone.

If far from me the Fates remove Domestic peace, connubial love, The prattling ring, the social cheer, Affection's voice, affection's tear, Ye sterner powers, that bind the heart, To me your iron aid impart! O teach me when the nights are chill, And my fireside is lone and still; When to the blaze that crackles near, I turn a tired and pensive ear, And Nature conquering bids me sigh For love's soft accents whispering nigh; O teach me, on that heavenly road, That leads to Truth's occult abode, To wrap my soul in dreams sublime, Till earth and care no more be mine. Let bless'd Philosophy impart Her soothing measures to my heart; And while with Plato's ravish'd ears I list the music of the spheres, Or on the mystic symbols pore, That hide the Chald's sublimer lore, I shall not brood on summers gone, Nor think that I am all alone.

Fanny! upon thy breast I may not lie! Fanny! thou dost not hear me when I speak! Where art thou, love?--Around I turn my eye, And as I turn, the tear is on my cheek. Was it a dream? or did my love behold Indeed my lonely couch?--Methought the breath Fann'd not her bloodless lip; her eye was cold And hollow, and the livery of death Invested her pale forehead. Sainted maid! My thoughts oft rest with thee in thy cold grave, Through the long wintry night, when wind and wave Rock the dark house where thy poor head is laid. Yet, hush! my fond heart, hush! there is a shore Of better promise; and I know at last, When the long sabbath of the tomb is past, We two shall meet in Christ--to part no more.