And, as along the beach we rove, Where ebbs and flows life's restless tide, We see glad barks that leave the shore Come back no more! Still, let us feel that though, awhile, Sweet hours, sweet friends sail down the stream, There is a far but joyous isle Where turns to truth hope's wildest dream, Thus thought the failing, gray-haired man, Joy flashed across his visage wan, As those old voices, now grown gay, This altered burden chanted o'er: "Sorrow no more!" THE CURFEW. Ah why, when life's dim eve comes on, Make 'Tis true, the happy light that fell On board and hearth, of yore, Went out when evening's tyrant bell, The Curfew's warning bore. The fresh, warm glow of sympathy That for our bliss is given, To gild our clay-born destiny With radiance lit in Heaven All these may teach—as they have taught— That as life's waves we press, The blithest bark bounds on for nought, That sails in loneliness! But yet, to feel that Fate may wind That when, before our gladdening eyes, Some blinding mist between; That not a moment may fleet on, And, worse than all, when duty stern When love has ceased, we thought would flow Till time should waste its wave, And trust's forgot, that should not know Oblivion in the grave These, these are pains not all the bliss Of sympathy can cure; What might we not endure? To fly from these, we might forego Oh God! Oh God! let not thy wrath That finding midnight round my path, THE FOUNT. When by the margin of the stream, And if, unto his fainting lip, The fresh bright waters cooling bring, Or why, with loathing, should he start Oh spurn not then the stream of love, In whose warm blaze the ripples glow! And bless thee for the kindly fate, Which to thy pilgrim soul hath given A fount its purest thirst to sate, Which springs from earth, but mirrors Heaven! ΤΟ I cherish yet this lifeless flower: 'Twas bright and fresh, with bloom like thine, When thy soft hand in thoughtless hour, Half flung it, careless, into mine! |