* * * * *


GAZEL.

BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.


Haste, Maami, the spring is nigh,
Already, in th' unopened flowers
That sleep around us, Fancy's eye
Can see the blush of future bowers;
And joy it brings to thee and me,
My own beloved Maami!

The streamlet, frozen on its way,
To feed the marble Founts of Kings,
Now, loosen'd by the vernal ray,
Upon its path exulting springs,
As doth this bounding heart to thee,
My ever blissful Maami!

Such bright hours were not made to stay,
Enough if they awhile remain;
Like Irem's bowers, that fade away,
From time to time, and come again,
And life shall all one Irem be
For us, my gentle Maami.