Of things that words can ne'er disclose,
And nought but this reveal so well.

Then take my flower, and let its leaves
Beside thy heart be cherished near,
While that confiding heart receives
The thought it whispers to thine ear!




The Maniac.


[Illustration: The Maniac]

On a tall cliff that overhung the deep,
A maniac stood. He heeded not the sweep
Of the swift gale that lashed the troubled main,
And spread with showery foam the watery plain.
His reckless foot was on the dizzy line
That edged the rock, impending o'er the brine;
His form was bent, and leaning from the height,
Like the light gull whose wing is stretched for flight.
Far down beneath his feet, the surges broke;
Above his head the pealing thunders spoke;
Around him flashed the lightning's ruddy glare,
And rushing torrents swept along the air.
But nought he heeded, save a gallant sail
That on the sea was wrestling with the gale.