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SONG OF OTHER DAYS

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      As o'er the glacier's frozen sheet

       Breathes soft the Alpine rose,

       So through life's desert springing sweet

       The flower of friendship grows;

       And as where'er the roses grow

       Some rain or dew descends,

       'T is nature's law that wine should flow

       To wet the lips of friends.

       Then once again, before we part,

       My empty glass shall ring;

       And he that has the warmest heart

       Shall loudest laugh and sing.

      They say we were not born to eat;

       But gray-haired sages think

       It means, Be moderate in your meat,

       And partly live to drink.

       For baser tribes the rivers flow

       That know not wine or song;

       Man wants but little drink below,

       But wants that little strong.

       Then once again, etc.

      If one bright drop is like the gem

       That decks a monarch's crown,

       One goblet holds a diadem

       Of rubies melted down!

       A fig for Caesar's blazing brow,

       But, like the Egyptian queen,

       Bid each dissolving jewel glow

       My thirsty lips between.

       Then once again, etc.

      The Grecian's mound, the Roman's urn,

       Are silent when we call,

       Yet still the purple grapes return

       To cluster on the wall;

       It was a bright Immortal's head

       They circled with the vine,

       And o'er their best and bravest dead

       They poured the dark-red wine.

       Then once again, etc.

      Methinks o'er every sparkling glass

       Young Eros waves his wings,

       And echoes o'er its dimples pass

       From dead Anacreon's strings;

       And, tossing round its beaded brim

       Their locks of floating gold,

       With bacchant dance and choral hymn

       Return the nymphs of old.

       Then once again, etc.

      A welcome then to joy and mirth,

       From hearts as fresh as ours,

       To scatter o'er the dust of earth

       Their sweetly mingled flowers;

       'T is Wisdom's self the cup that fills

       In spite of Folly's frown,

       And Nature, from her vine-clad hills,

       That rains her life-blood down!

       Then once again, before we part,

       My empty glass shall ring;

       And he that has the warmest heart

       Shall loudest laugh and sing.

SONG

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      FOR A TEMPERANCE DINNER TO WHICH LADIES WERE INVITED (NEW YORK MERCANTILE LIBRARY ASSOCIATION, NOVEMBER, 1842)

      A HEALTH to dear woman! She bids us untwine,

       From the cup it encircles, the fast-clinging vine;

       But her cheek in its crystal with pleasure will glow,

       And mirror its bloom in the bright wave below.

      A health to sweet woman! The days are no more

       When she watched for her lord till the revel was o'er,

       And smoothed the white pillow, and blushed when he came,

       As she pressed her cold lips on his forehead of flame.

      Alas for the loved one! too spotless and fair

       The joys of his banquet to chasten and share;

       Her eye lost its light that his goblet might shine,

       And the rose of her cheek was dissolved in his wine.

      Joy smiles in the fountain, health flows in the rills,

       As their ribbons of silver unwind from the hills;

       They breathe not the mist of the bacchanal's dream,

       But the lilies of innocence float on their stream.

      Then a health and a welcome to woman once more!

       She brings us a passport that laughs at our door;

       It is written on crimson—its letters are pearls—

       It is countersigned Nature.—So, room for the Girls!

A SENTIMENT

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      THE pledge of Friendship! it is still divine,

       Though watery floods have quenched its burning wine;

       Whatever vase the sacred drops may hold,

       The gourd, the shell, the cup of beaten gold,

       Around its brim the hand of Nature throws

       A garland sweeter than the banquet's rose.

       Bright are the blushes of the vine-wreathed bowl,

       Warm with the sunshine of Anacreon's soul,

       But dearer memories gild the tasteless wave

       That fainting Sidney perished as he gave.

       'T is the heart's current lends the cup its glow,

       Whate'er the fountain whence the draught may flow—

       The diamond dew-drops sparkling through the sand,

       Scooped by the Arab in his sunburnt hand,

       Or the dark streamlet oozing from the snow,

       Where creep and crouch the shuddering Esquimaux;

       Ay, in the stream that, ere again we meet,

       Shall burst the pavement, glistening at our feet,

       And, stealing silent from its leafy hills,

       Thread all our alleys with its thousand rills—

       In each pale draught if generous feeling blend,

       And o'er the goblet friend shall smile on friend,

       Even cold Cochituate every heart shall warm,

       And genial Nature still defy reform!

A RHYMED LESSON (URANIA)

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      This poem was delivered before the Boston Mercantile

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