ISABEL.

They said that I was strange. I could not bear

Confinement, and I lov'd to feel the wind

Blowing upon my forehead, and when morn

Came like an inspiration from the East,

And the cool earth, awaking like a star

In a new element, sent out its voice,

And tempted me with music, and the breath

Of a delicious perfume, and the dye

Of the rich forests and the pastures green,

To come out and be glad — I would not stay

To bind my gushing spirit with a book.

Fourteen bright summers — and my heart had grown

Impatient in its loneliness, and yearn'd

For something that was like itself, to love.

She came — the stately Isabel — as proud

And beautiful, and gentle as my dream;

And with my wealth of feeling, lov'd I her.

Older by years, and wiser of the world,

She was in thought my equal, and we rang'd

The pleasant wood together, and sat down

Impassion'd with the same delicious sweep

Of water, and I pour'd into her ear

My passion and my hoarded thoughts like one,

Till I forgot that there was any world

But Isabel and nature. She was pleas'd

And flatter'd with my wild and earnest love,

And suffer'd my delirious words to burn

Upon my lip unchided. It was new

To be so worshipped like a deity

By a pure heart from nature, and she gave

Her tenderness its way, and when I kiss'd

Her fingers till I thought I was in Heaven,

She gaz'd upon me silently, and wept.

I have seen eighteen summers — and the child

Of stately Isabel hath learn'd to come

And win me from my sadness. I have school'd

My feelings to affection for that child,

And I can see his father fondle him,

And give him to his mother with a kiss

Upon her holy forehead — and be calm!