TO-DAY, DEAREST! IS OURS.

To-day, dearest! is ours; Why should Love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lowers Just as we, weak mortals, use it. 'Tis time enough, when its flowers decay, To think of the thorns of Sorrow And Joy, if left on the stem to-day, May wither before to-morrow.

Then why, dearest! so long Let the sweet moments fly over? Tho' now, blooming and young Thou hast me devoutly thy lover; Yet Time from both, in his silent lapse, Some treasure may steal or borrow; Thy charms may be less in bloom, perhaps, Or I less in love to-morrow.