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- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. 0, when weary, sad, and slow, From the fields at night they go,
aint with toil, and racked with pain,
sold and gone,
-sold and gone,
- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Gone, gone, — sold and gone,
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Gone, gone, — sold and gone,
By those tresses unconfined,
Ζώη μου σάς αγαπω
O MY Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June : O my Luve's like the melodie
That 's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry : Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve !
And fare thee weel awhile ! And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
By that lip I long to taste ;
Ζώη μου σας αγαπώ
Maid of Athens ! I am gone.
Ζώη μου σας αγαπώ
Nor need I write -- to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak: O, what can idle words avail,
Unless the heart could speak ?
* My life, I love thee.
“Believe not what the landmen say
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind :
In every port a mistress find :
ADIEU, ADIEU ! OUR DREAM OF LOVE- "If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, ADIEC, adieu! our dream of love
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, Was far too sweet to linger long;
Thy skin is ivory so white. Such hopes may bloom in bowers above,
Thus every beauteous object that I view But here they mock the fond and young. Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. We met in hope, we part in tears ! Yet 0, 't is sadly sweet to know
“Though battle call me from thy arms, That life, in all its future years,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; Can reach us with no heavier blow !
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms
William shall to his dear return. The hour is come, the spell is past;
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Far, far from thee, my only love,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye." Youth's earliest hope, and manhood's last, My darkened spirit turns to rove.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread ; Adieu, adieu! 0, dull and dread
No longer must she stay aboard ; Sinks on the ear that parting knell !
They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head. Hope and the dreams of love lie dead, Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land; To them and thee, farewell, farewell ! “Adieu !” she cries; and waved her lily hand.
THOMAS K. HERVEY.
O kiss me ere we part;
But give the cock a blow Grow closer to my heart.
Who did begin our woe !"
ANONYMOUS (Chinese). Translation My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the
of WILLIAM R. ALGER. main. O joy! O bliss of blisses !
My heart of hearts art thou. Come, bathe me with thy kisses,
THE PARTING OF ROMEO AND JULIET. My eyelids and my brow. Hark how the wild rain hisses,
JULIET. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near And the loud sea roars below.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark, Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; So gladly doth it stir ;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh; Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the Thy locks are dripping balm ;
morn, Thou shalt not wander hence to-night, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks I 'll stay thee with my kisses.
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : To-night the roaring brine
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Will rend thy golden tresses ;
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. The ocean with the morrow light
I must be gone and live, or stay and die. Will be both blue and calm ;
JULIET. Yon light is not daylight, I know And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as it, I : soft as mine.
It is some meteor, that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
Therefore stay yet, - thou need’st not be gone. And when thou art dead, Leander,
Romeo. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to My soul must follow thee!
death ; 0, go not yet, my love,
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye, The deep salt wave breaks in above 'T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Those marble steps below.
Nor that is not the lark, wliose notes do beat The turret-stairs are wet
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : That lead into the sea.
I have more care to stay than will to go ; Leander ! go not yet.
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. — The pleasant stars have set :
How is't, my soul ? let's talk, it is not day. 0, go not, go not yet,
JULIET. It is, it hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
This doth not so, for she divideth us :
Some say, the lark and loathéd toad change
eyes : “The cock crows, — hark !” 0, now I would they had changed voices too! He says, “No! still 't is dark."
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence, with hunts-up to the day. She says, “The dawn grows bright," 0, now be gone ; more light and light it grows. He says “O no, my Light."
Romeo. More light and light,
and dark our woes.
JULIET. Then, window, let day in, and let
ROMEO. Farewell, farewell ! one kiss, and I'll He says, “The morning star
(Descends.) Climbs the horizon's bar."
Juliet. Art thou gone so? my love ! my
lord ! my friend ! She says, “Then quick depart :
I must hear from thee every day i' the hour, Alas! you now must start;
For in a minute there are many days :