Trust Not, Love Not.
When the world is fair, entwining
Many a garland for thy brow,
When around thee wealth is shining,
Friendship's hand is near thee now.
But when clouds and storms shall gather
Round thy pathway rough and drear,
Few will cling as fond as ever,
Few will prove to thee sincere.
Oh! if thou canst find the treasure,
Close the precious jewel bind;
Choicest blessing without measure,
Guardian angel--rare to find.
Speak or act, oh! coldly never,
Kindred spirits keenest feel;
Silver links the blow may sever;
Time the wound may never heal.
Friendship's ties too oft are riven,
By the slightest word or deed;
Oh! trust not love's tokens given,
Lest thy heart with anguish bleed.
Trust not--hopes we fondly cherish,
Crushed and wounded leave the heart.
Love not--love's bright flowers perish,
Bloom to wither, then depart.
Love's sweet strains, like music flowing,
Drink not deep their melting tone.
Eyes that now so gently glowing,
Beam so fondly in thine own--
Ah! their light--it may deceive thee;
Flattering smiles, oh, heed them not,
For their coldness soon may grieve thee,
Soon thou mayest be forgot.
Lavish not youth's tender feeling--
Warm, confiding--keep it true,
Ere dark shadows o'er thee stealing,
Bitter tears thy cheek bedew.
Trust not--change may, ere the morrow,
Rob thy cheek of beauty's bloom;
Love not, it may bring the sorrow,
Haste thee to an early tomb.
Solemn vows are lightly spoken,
Joys and pleasures fade and die;
Fondest, truest hearts are broken,
Golden dreams like phantoms fly.
Trust not--vows are falsely plighted--
Lest thy rashness give thee pain;
Love not--"for its flowers once blighted,
They may never bloom again."
Proof Reader's Lament.
What news is this falls on my ear?
What next will to my sight appear?
My brain doth whirl, my heart doth quake--
Oh, that egregious mistake!
"Too bad! too bad!!" I hear them cry,
"You might have seen with half an eye!
Strange! passing strange!! how could you make
So plain, so blunderous a mistake!"
Ah! where it happened, when and how,
This way or that, no matter now;
Myself from blame I cannot shake--
For there it is, that _sad mistake_.
Guilty, condemned, I trembling stand,
With pressing cares on every hand,
Without one single plea to make,
For leaving such a _bad mistake_.
From morn till night, from night till morn,
At every step, weary, forlorn,
Whether I sleep, or whether wake,
I'm haunted still with _a mistake_.
If right, no meed of praise is won,
No more than _duty_ then is done;
If wrong, then censure I partake,
Deserving such a gross mistake.
How long shall I o'er this bewail?
"The best," 'tis said, "will sometimes fail;"
Must it then _peace_ forever break--
Summed up, 'tis only _a mistake_.
A smile is my delight to share,
A frown is more than I can bear;
How great the sacrifice I'd make,
If I could cease from a mistake.
"I'll try," my motto yet shall be--
Whate'er I hear, whate'er I see,
And for my own and others' sakes,
Look out betimes _for all mistakes_.
Lines to H. N. S.
On the Reception of a Rose.
O sweet, lovely flower,
For me didst thou bloom
In a far distant bower,
My path to perfume?
For me wast thou nourished,
In that dear, quiet spot,
To tell when thou flourished,
I was not forgot?
Thine image, loved sister,
In fancy I trace,
And joy in the vision,
To greet thine embrace;
But here I have never
Thy hand clasped in mine;
Yet round us forever,
Affection shall twine.
And oft this fond token
Shall whisper to me,
Of friendship unbroken,
In remembrance of thee.
Its freshness may perish;
But ne'er can depart
Its fragrance I cherish
So deep in my heart.