"There's _somebody_ cares for me, Colonel Dunbar!"

What subtlest of essences, sovereign to cheer--
What countless, uncatalogu'd tokens are here!
What lavender'd memories, tenderly green,
Lie hidden, these grosser of viands between!
What food for the heart-life,--unreckon'd, untold--
What manna enclosed in its chalice of gold!
What caskets of sweets that Love only unlocks,--
What mysteries Douglass will find in the box!





VI.


The lull of the Winter is over; and Spring
Comes back, as delicious and buoyant a thing,
As airy, and fairy, and lightsome, and bland,
As if not a sorrow was dark'ning the land;--
So little has Nature of passion or part
In the woes and the throes of humanity's heart.

The wild tide of battle runs red,--dashes high,
And blots out the splendour of earth and of sky;
The blue air is heavy, and sulph'rous, and dun,
And the breeze on its wings bears the boom of the gun.
In faster and fiercer and deadlier shocks,