New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1852-04-24
ULA1IE.

ULALlE.
THE crimson of the maple trees
Is lighted by the moons soft glow;
Oh nights like this, and things like these,
Bring back dream of long ago.
For on an eve sweet as this
Upon this bank-beneath this tree
Ny lips, in loves imprisoned kiss,
Met those of Ulalie.
Softly as now the dewdrops burned
In the flushed bosoms of the flowers
Backward almost seems time to have turned
The golden axis OF the hours,
Till cold as oceans beaten surf,
Beneath these trailing boughs, see
The white cross and the faded turf
Above lost Ualie.
Or we may find it, keynote described with per-
feet fidelity in the touching lines
TO THE SPIRIT OF GLADNESS.
UNDERNEATH a dreary sky,
Spirit glad and free
Voyagng solemnly am |
Toward unknown sea.
Falls the moonlight sings the breeze,
But thou speakest not In these
In the summers overflown
What delights we had
Now cit all day alone,
Weaving dittics sad
But thou CONTEST not for the sake
OF the lonesome rhymes make
Paithles spirit. spirit free,
Where mayst thou be foundf
Where the meadow fountains be
Raining music round
And the thistle burs so blue
Shine the hveOng day with dew.
Keep thee, in thy pleasant bowers,
From my heart and brain
Even the summers lap of flowers
Could not cool the pain
Ard for pallid cheek and brow
What companiOnship hast thoul
Erewhile, when the rainy spring
Filled the pastures full
OF sweet daisies blossomng
Out as white as wool
We have gathered theIr and made
Beds OF Beauty IN ths shade.
Would that had any friend
Lovingly to go
To the hoiows where they blend
With the grasses low,
And pillow soft and white
Make for the approaching night.
One of the best specimens, to our taste, of the
elegac illusions in this volume, is Annie Clay
Vile" With less elaborate finish than several
pieces which have been largely quoted, il has q
charming simplicity, and truthfnlness to nature,
which has rarely been surpassed.
ANNIE CLAYvILLE
In the bright ming wake of April
Comes the lovely, lovely May,
But the step Of Annie Clayville
Faleth fainter day by day.
In despite of sunshine, shadows
Lie upon her heart and brow:
Last year she was gay and happy
Lie Is nothing TO her nowl
When she hears the wild bird singing,
Or the sweetly humming bee,
Only Gays she family smiling,
What have you to do with met
Yet, sing out for pleasant weather.
Wild birds in the woodland dells-
Fly out little bees and gather
Honey for your waxen wells.
Softly silver rain OF April,
Come down singing from the clouds,
Til the detfodils and daisies
Shall be up In golden crowds;
Till the wild pinks hedge the meadows,
Bushing out Of slender stems,
And the dsndelions starry
Cover all the hills with gems
Prom your cool beds in the rivers
Blow fresh Winds and gIadnese bring
To the locks that wait to hide you
What have to do with springl
May ia psst-along the hoIlows
Chime the rills in sleepy tune,
While the harvests yellow chapet
Swings against the face Of June.
Very pale lies Annie Clayvie-
Still her forehesd, shadowcrowned
And the watchers hear her saying
Az they softly tread around:
Go out, reapers, for the hill tops
Twinkle with the summers heat
Lay from out your swinging cradles
Golden burrows Of ripe wheat
While the little laughing children,
Lightly mixing work with play
From between the long green winrows
Clean the sweety &C tented hay
Let your sickles shine like sanbeams
In the silver flowing rye
Ears grow heavy In the cornields
That viii claim you BY and BY.
Go out reapers, with your sickles,
Gather homo the harvest store
Little cleaners, laughing cleaners,
shall go with you no more
Round the red moon of October,
White and cold the eve-stars climb
BIds are gone and flowers arc dying
lis lonesome, lonesome time
Yellow leaves along the woodland
surge to driffs-the elm-bough sways
Creating at the homestead window
All The weary nights and days
DiAmaliy the rain 4 falling
Very dkmally and cold
Close. within the village graveyard
By heap Of feshese mould