(_For the Mirror._)
Thou that art like the sun, that on its way,
Across the cloudless distance of the skies
Gives pleasure to us all--no rivalries
Lessen'ng the love we bear it--as a day
Of shower-glad April or the month of May,
Thou that art cheerful--see yon youth that lies
Weeping for want of sunshine from thine eyes,
And hope that thou canst only give him--say:
"Sweet youth, and art thou weeping for a heart
All passion, joy, and gladness--come unto me,
Oft by the evening sunset thou shalt woo me,
And as thou hast the gentleness and art
Or rather truth-kind nature thou mayst tear it
From all its other likings, win and wear it."