The Epochs.

ON Petrarch's heart, all other days before, In flaming letters written, was impress d GOOD FRIDAY. And on mine, be it confess'd, Is this year's ADVENT, as it passeth o'er. I do not now begin,—I still adore Her whom I early cherish'd in my breast;, Then once again with prudence dispossess'd, And to whose heart I'm driven back once more. The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love, Was unrequited, and, alas, full sad; One long Good Friday 'twas, one heartache drear But may my mistress' Advent ever prove, With its palm-jubilee, so sweet and glad, One endless Mayday, through the livelong year!