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Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879

By J. R. Planché
Planché, J. R. (1796-1880)

collapse sectionI. 
PART I.
  
STANZAS TO A BROKEN LUTE.
  
SONG
  
TO------
  
TO------
  
STANZAS FOR MUSIC.
  
TO------
  
TO------, WITH A RING.
  
TO------
  
TO THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.
  
TO------
  
SONG.
  
TO------
  
PARTING.
  
SCOTCH MELODY.
  
VENETIAN MELODY.
  
FRENCH MELODY.
  
LINES ON PASSING THROUGH FRANCE.
  
TO------
  
ELLEN.
  
SILENTLY.
  
VULCAN AND HYMEN.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 1.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 2.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 3.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 4.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 5.
  
TO------
  
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. ---
  
SONG.
  
RONDEAU.
  
OLD ENGLISH MELODY.
  
TO J--- H---, ESQ., ON HIS MARRIAGE.
  
A SONG.
  
A SONG.
  
TO MY WIFE AFTER AN ILLNESS.
  
I LOVE THEE.
  
I'M IN LOVE.
  
A SONG
  
“THERE WAS A TIME.”
  
A SONG.
  
A SONG.
  
A SONG.
  
TO LIZZIE.
  
OH! NOT BY THE RIVER.
  
FROM THE FRENCH.
  
FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CACCEORUS.
  
ASK YE WHERE MY HOME?
  
GIOVANNA.
  
SOUVENIR OF MOUNT EDGECUMBE.
  
ON HEARING A LADY SING “LOVE IS PASSING.”
  
AN ACROSTIC.
  
WEARY.
  
A SONG.
  
ACROSTIC
  
ON LEAVING PENCARROW.
  
A PROLOGUE.
  
AN EXCHANGE.
  
AN ANSWER.
  
TO MY WIFE.
  
“POVERTY PARTS GOOD COMPANY.”
  
THE FLOWERS OF TOWTON FIELD.
  
PROLOGUE TO THE “FORTY THIEVES.”
  
PROLOGUE TO “VALENTINE AND ORSON.”
  
SONG FROM “BABIL AND BIJOU.”
  
LOVE'S GIFTS.
  
WOMAN.
  
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
  
“WITH WOMAN AS WITH OTHER GAME.”
  
“WHEREFORE NOT BEING SAD.”
  
OH! YE LORDS OF THE CREATION!
  
LINES ON THE DEATH OF CARL MARIA VON WEBER.
collapse sectionII. 
PART II.
  
SOME OLD READINGS OF OLD NURSERY RHYMES.
  
TO SYDNEY HALL, ESQ.
  
A CHRISTMAS GREETING.
  
“THE MAGPIE” TO “THE MAID.”
  
POLLY CONNOR
  
A WORD IN SEASON.
  
A SONG
  
UNSUPPORTED SUPPORTERS.
  
A LITERARY SQUABBLE.
  
JOHN BROWN'S ANSWER
  
MADAME VESTRIS'S ANSWER TO THE ALPHABET.
  
INTRODUCTION TO “MIRTH.”
  
SELF-EVIDENT.
  
NOTES OF AN OLD MOCKING-BIRD.
  
THE STORY OF ARIADNE.

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61

A SONG.

[Have you marked the silver mist]

Have you marked the silver mist,
When rising from the stream or furrow,
Just as day's first beam hath kissed
The mountain-tops that wish good morrow?
So, deceiving thoughtless youth,
From the heart where hope enshrined it,
Fleets the dream of love and truth,
Leaving nought but tears behind it.
Where's the sun that with its ray
Shall dry those tears for rapture vanished?
Can its brightest joys repay
The heart for those its beam hath banished?
Noon may pass, and evening mild
Fling her wreaths of shadows round it;
But none half so sweet and wild
As the one at morn that bound it.
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