TO ISADORE.

[Text: Broadway Journal, 1845.]

I.

BENEATH the vine-clad eaves

Whose shadows fall before Thy lowly cottage door — Under the lilac's tremulous leaves Within thy snowy clasped hand The purple flowers it bore — Last eve in dreams, I saw thee stand, Like queenly nymph from Fairy-landEnchantress of the flowery wand, Most beautiful Isadore !

II.

And when I bade the dream
Upon thy spirit flee,

Thy violet eyes to me
Upturned, did overflowing seem
With the deep, untold delight
Of Love's serenity;

Thy classic brow, like lilies white
And pale as the Imperial Night
Upon her throne, with stars bedight,
Enthrall'd my soul to thee!

III.

Ah! ever I behold

Thy dreamy, passionate eyes,
Blue as the languid skies

Hung with the sunset's fringe of gold;
Now strangely clear thine image grows,
And olden memories

Are startled from their long repose
Like shadows on the silent snows
When suddenly the night-wind blows
Where quiet moonlight lies.

IV.

Like music heard in dreams,

Like strains of harps unknown,
Of birds forever flown

Audible as the voice of streams
That murmur in some leafy dell,
I hear thy gentlest tone,

And Silence cometh with her spell

Like that which on my tongue doth dwell When tremulous in dreams I tell

My love to thee alone!

V.

In every valley heard,

Floating from tree to tree,

Less beautiful to me,

The music of the radiant bird,

Than artless accents such as thine

Whose echoes never flee!

Ah! how for thy sweet voice I pine :-
For uttered in thy tones benign
(Enchantress!) this rude name of mine
Doth seem a melody!

THE VILLAGE STREET.

[Text: Broadway Journal, 1845.]

In these rapid, restless shadows,
Once I walked at eventide,
When a gentle, silent maiden,
Walked in beauty at my side.
She alone there walked beside me
All in beauty, like a bride.

Pallidly the moon was shining

On the dewy meadows nigh; On the silvery, silent rivers,

On the mountains far and high, On the ocean's star-lit waters, Where the winds a-weary die.

Slowly, silently we wandered
From the open cottage door,
Underneath the elm's long branches
To the pavement bending o'er;
Underneath the mossy willow
And the dying sycamore.

With the myriad stars in beauty

All bedight, the heavens were seen Radiant hopes were bright around me, Like the light of stars serene; Like the mellow midnight splendor

Of the Night's irradiate queen.

Audibly the elm-leaves whispered
Peaceful, pleasant melodies,
Like the distant murmured music
Of unquiet, lovely seas;

While the winds were hushed in slumber
In the fragrant flowers and trees.

Wondrous and unwonted beauty
Still adorning all did seem
While I told my love in fables

'Neath the willows by the stream; Would the heart had kept unspoken Love that was its rarest dream!

Instantly away we wandered

In the shadowy twilight tide, She, the silent, scornful maiden, Walking calmly at my side, With a step serene and stately, All in beauty, all in pride.

Vacantly I walked beside her,

On the earth mine eyes were cast; Swift and keen there came unto me Bitter memories of the past

On me, like the rain in Autumn

On the dead leaves, cold and fast.

Underneath the elms we parted,

By the lowly cottage door;
One brief word alone was uttered
Never on our lips before;
And away I walked forlornly,
Broken-hearted evermore.

Slowly, silently I loitered,

Homeward, in the night, alone; Sudden anguish bound my spirit,

That my youth had never known; Wild unrest, like that which cometh When the Night's first dream hath flown.

Now, to me the elm-leaves whisper
Mad, discordant melodies,

And keen melodies like shadows
Haunt the moaning willow trees,
And the sycamores with laughter
Mock me in the nightly breeze.

Sad and pale the Autumn moonlight
Through the sighing foliage streams;
And each morning, midnight shadow,
Shadow of my sorrow seems;
Strive, O heart, forget thine idol !
And, O soul, forget thy dreams!

(Signed)

A, M. IDE.