Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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Musings.
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XIII.
Musings.
How lovely this delightful even!
The blue serenity of heaven!
Yon stars that gem the breast of night
Shine on the waters blue and bright.
The summer waves are hushed asleep;
Music and love is on the deep,
And many a false, and many a fair,
And many a lovely one is there:
Loving and lovely tho' they be,
There is not one will think on me.
The blue serenity of heaven!
Yon stars that gem the breast of night
Shine on the waters blue and bright.
The summer waves are hushed asleep;
Music and love is on the deep,
And many a false, and many a fair,
And many a lovely one is there:
Loving and lovely tho' they be,
There is not one will think on me.
There's one romantic thought, more dear
Than all that love can furnish here,—
Beneath yon moonbeam's yellow ray,
Where Nith's dark waters glide away,
One heart may haply seek the grove,
To muse on days of early love;
And, should some fond remembrance be,
To give a sigh, and think on me.
Than all that love can furnish here,—
Beneath yon moonbeam's yellow ray,
Where Nith's dark waters glide away,
One heart may haply seek the grove,
To muse on days of early love;
And, should some fond remembrance be,
To give a sigh, and think on me.
There was a time—but the years are past—
When many an evening walk was blest;
When summer's dewy fragrance lay
On rustling corn and fresh green hay;
The woods were dark, the waters clear,
And not a foot save one was near:
Whoe'er that lovely one might be,
Her happiest thoughts were thoughts of me.
When many an evening walk was blest;
When summer's dewy fragrance lay
On rustling corn and fresh green hay;
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And not a foot save one was near:
Whoe'er that lovely one might be,
Her happiest thoughts were thoughts of me.
But why these recollections dear
No longer must be cherished here;
Why thoughts of one so dearly lov'd
Were better from my breast remov'd;
And why two loving hearts did sever,
And bade adieu, perhaps for ever,—
No one must know, but only she
Who long has thought and thinks of me.
No longer must be cherished here;
Why thoughts of one so dearly lov'd
Were better from my breast remov'd;
And why two loving hearts did sever,
And bade adieu, perhaps for ever,—
No one must know, but only she
Who long has thought and thinks of me.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |