And rapturous languor steals over his breast.

He bathes in the sunlight of Alice's smiles;
He wraps himself round with love's magical wiles:
His sweet iterations pall not on her ear,--
"_I love you--I love you!_"--she never can hear
That cadence too often; its musical roll
Wakes ever an echoed reply in her soul.

--Do visions of trial, of warning, of woe,
Loom dark in the future of doubt? Do they know
They are hiving, of honied remembrance, a store
To live on, when summer and sunshine are o'er?
Do they feel that their island of beauty at last
Must be rent by the tempest,--be swept by the blast?
Do they dream that afar, on the wild, wintry main,
Their love-freighted bark must be driven again?

--Bless God for the wisdom that curtains so tight
To-morrow's enjoyments or griefs from our sight!
Bless God for the ignorance, darkness and doubt,
That girdle so kindly our future about!

The crutches are brought, and the invalid's strength
Is able to measure the lawn's gravel'd length;
And under the beeches, once more he reclines,
And hears the wind plaintively moan through the pines;
His children around him, with frolic and play,
Cheat autumn's mild listlessness out of the day;
And Alice, the sunshine all flecking her book,