TWO SONNETS.

Fair falls the dawn upon thy face, O sea! And from thy furrows, crested white with foam, The gray mist brightens, and the hollow dome Of pearly cloud slow-reddens over thee: The glee of birds with snowy sun-kissed wings Cheerily wakes along thy tremulous waves, And blent with echoes of far distant caves, Thine own wild voice a deep-toned matin sings. Eastward, the line of jagged reefs is bright With sunshine and white dashings of thy spray; And laughing blithely in the golden light, The fretted surf runs rippling up the bay; Westward, from night—O bear it safe, fair sea!— Slow sails the ship with freighted love to me.

O strange sweet loveliness! O tender grace, That in the light of passion’s day-spring threw Soft splendour on a fair familiar face, Changing it, yet unchanged, and old, yet new! Perfect the portrait in my heart, and true, Which traced the smile about that flower-like mouth, And those gray eyes with just a doubt of blue, Yet darkened with the passion of the South, And the white arch of thoughtful forehead, crowned With meeting waves of hair:—but still I found Some undreamt light of tenderness that fell From the new dawn, and made more fair to see What was so fair, that now no song can tell How lovely seemed thy heart-lit face to me. George Logan Moore, A.B.