WILLIAM CALDWELL 1823-1859. RETROSPECT. THE bubble of the silver-springing waves, And, not untouched by storms, my life-boat heaves Clasped on his ear, strives trembling to reclaim Some loved lost echo from the fleeting strand, So lean I back to the poetic land; And in my heart a sound, a voice, a name Hangs, as above the lamp hangs the expiring flame. AD MATREM, MARCH 13, 1862. JULIAN OFT in the after-days, when thou and I 1827-1870. Have fallen from the scope of human view, Oh, may they then, who crown thee with true bays, 'Nor ever yet was mother worshipt more!' JULIAN 1827-1870. AD MATREM, MARCH 13, 1863. OH, what a royalty of song should greet The unclouded advent of thy natal day! All things of musical utterance should meet Let the proud trumpet tongue thy noble praise, Let fifes and flutes their fluttering voices raise, Thy womanly pity and large heart of ruth; But of my love let my voice sing alone: What is it that Love chaunts? thy perfect praise. What is it that Love prays? worthy to prove. What is it Love desires? thy length of days. Ah, what requital can Love ask more dear Hath granted more than all my heart hath prayed, And, prodigal as Nature, makes me pine To think how poor my love compared with thine. JULIAN FANE. 1827-1870. AD MATREM, MARCH 13, 1870. I. WHEN the vast heaven is dark with ominous clouds, That lower their gloomful faces to the earth ; When all things sweet and fair are cloaked in shrouds, When furious tempests strip the woodland green, And from bare boughs the hapless songsters sing; O mother, I clasped Death; but, seeing thy face, Leapt from his dark arms to thy dear embrace. |