THE SEA-CAPTAIN'S WOOING.

Put the crown of your love on my forehead,

Its sweet links clasped with a kiss,

And all the great monarchs of England

Never wore such a gem as this.

Give me your hand, little maiden,

That sceptre so pearly white,

And I'll envy not the kingliest wand

That ever waved in might.

I know‘ tis like asking a morning cloud

With a grim old mountain to stay,

But your love would soften its ruggedness,

And melt its roughness away.

I have seen a delicate rosy cloud,

A rough, gray cliff enfold,

Till his heart was warmed by its loveliness,

And his brow was tinged with its gold.

Oh, poor and mean does my life show

Compared with the beauty of thine,

Like a diamond embedded in granite

Your life would be set in mine;

But a faithful love should guard you,

And shelter you from life's storm,

The rock must be shivered to atoms

Ere its treasure should come to harm.

How your sweet face has shone on me

From the tropics’ midnight sea,

When the sailors slept, and I kept watch

Alone with my God and thee.

I know your heart is relenting,

The tender look in your eyes

Seems like that sky's soft splendor

When the sun was beginning to rise.

You need not veil their glorious light

With your eyelids’ cloud of snow,

A tell-tale bird with a crimson wing

On your cheek flies to and fro;

And whispers to me such blissful hope

That my foolish tears will start,

Ah, little bird! your fluttering wing

Is folded on my heart.