t and watch the fitful burning
Of prairie fires, far off, through gathering gloom;
While the young moon, and one bright star returning
Down the blue solitude, leave Night their room.

Gone is the glimmer of the silent river;
Hushed is the wind that sped the leaves to-day;
Alone through silence falls the crystal shiver
Of the sweet starlight, on its earthward way.

And yet I wait, how vainly! for a token--
A sigh, a touch, a whisper from the past;
Alas, I listen for a word unspoken,
And wail for arms that have embraced their last.

I wish no more, as once I wished, each feeling
To grow immortal in my happy breast;
Since not to feel will leave no wounds for healing--
The pulse that thrills not has no need of rest.

As the conviction sinks into my spirit
That my quick heart is doomed to death in life;
Or that these pangs must pierce and never sear it,
I am abandoned to despairing strife.

To the lost life, alas! no more returning--
In this to come no semblance of the past--
Only to wait!--hoping this ceaseless yearning
May, 'ere long, end--and rest may come at last.

PALMA.

What tellest thou to heaven,
Thou royal tropic tree?
At morn or noon or even,
Proud dweller by the sea,
What is thy song to heaven?

The homesick heart that fainted
In torrid sun and air,
With peace becomes acquainted
Beholding thee so fair--
With joy becomes acquainted:

And charms itself with fancies
About thy kingly race--
With gay and wild romances
That mimic thee in grace--
Of supple, glorious fancies.

I feel thou art not tender,
Scion of sun and sea--
The wild-bird does not render
To thee its minstrelsy--
Fearing thou art not tender:

But calm, serene and saintly,
As highborn things should be:
Who, if they love us faintly,
Make us love reverently,
Because they are so saintly.

To be loved without loving,
O proud and princely palm!
Is to fancy our ship moving
With the ocean at dead calm--
The joy of love is loving.

Because the Sun did sire thee,
The Ocean nurse thy youth,
Because the Stars desire thee,
The warm winds whisper truth,
Shall nothing ever fire thee?

What is thy tale to heaven
In the sultry tropic noon?
What whisperest thou at