Volume 32 — SPIRIT-YEARNINGS FOR LOVE.

BY MRS. H. MARION WARD.

Love me, darling, love me, for my wild and wayward heart, Like Noah's dove in search of rest, will hover where thou art; Will linger round thee, like a spell, till by thy hand caressed, It folds its weary, care-worn wings, to nestle on thy breast. Love me, darling, love me! When my soul was sick with strife, Thy soothing words have been the sun that warmed it into life; Thy breath called forth the passion-flowers, that slumbered 'neath the ice Of self-distrust, and now their balm makes earth a Paradise. Love me, darling, love me! Let thy dreams be all of me! Let waking thoughts be round my path, as mine will cling to thee! But if—oh, God! it cannot be—but if thou shouldst grow cold And weary of my jealous love, or think it over-bold— Or if, perchance, some fairer form should charm thy truant eye, Thou'lt find me woman—proud and calm, so leave me—let me die. I'd not reclaim a wavering heart whose pulse has once grown cold, To write my name in princely halls, with diamonds and gold. So love me, only love me, for I have no world but thee, And darksome clouds are in my sky—'tis woman's destiny; But let them frown—I heed them not—no fear can they impart, If thou art near, with smiles to bend hope's rainbow round my heart.