rive to move,
But spare, O spare, the Poet's heart!

Within its pure recesses, deep,
A fount of tender feeling lies;
Whose crystal waters, while they sleep,
Reflect the light of starry skies.
Thy voice might prophet-like unclose
Its bonds, and bid those waters start,
But why disturb their sweet repose?
Spare, lady, spare the Poet's heart!

It cannot be that one so fair,
The idol of the courtly throng--
Would condescend his lot to share,
And bless the lowly child of song,
Would realize the soul-wrought dreams,
That of his being form a part,
And mingle with his sweetest themes;
Then spare, O spare, the poet's heart!

The poet's heart! ye know it not,
Its hopes, its sympathies, its fears;
The joys that glad its humble lot;
The griefs that melt it into tears.
'Tis like some flower, that from the ground
Scarce dares to lift its petals up,
Though honeyed sweets are ever found
Indwelling in its golden cup.

Love comes to him in sweeter guise,
Than he appears to other men--
Heav'n-born, descended from the skies,
And longing to return again.
But bid him not with me abide,
If he can no relief impart;
Ah, hide those smiles, those glances hide,
And spare, O spare, the Poet's heart!

THE RETURN TO SCENES OF CHILDHOOD.

BY GRETTA.

"You have come again," said the dark old trees,
As I entered my childhood's home.
"You have come again," said the whispering breeze,
"And wherefore have you come?

"When last I played round your youthful brow
Its morning's light was there,
But you bring back a shadow upon it now,
And a saddened look of care.

"Have you come, have you left earth's noisy strife,
To seek your favorite flowers?
They are gone, like the hopes which lit your life,
Like your childhood's sunny hours.

"Have you come to seek for your shady dell,
For that spot in the moonlit grove,
Where first you were bound by the magic spell,
And thrilled to the voice of love?

"Has your heart been true to that early vow,
And pure as that trickling tear?
Does that voice of music charm you now
As once it charmed you here?

"Years have been short, and few, since last
As a child you roamed the glen;
But what have you learned s