University of Virginia Library

THE NIGHT WAS STILL.

The night was still,—the air was balm,
Soft dews around were weeping;
No whisper rose o'er ocean's calm,
Its waves in light were sleeping.
With Mary on the beach I stray'd,
The stars beam'd joy above me—
I prest her hand and said, “sweet maid,
“Oh tell me do you love me?”
With modest air she drooped her head,
Her cheek of beauty veiling:
Her bosom heav'd,—no word she said—
I mark'd her strife of feeling;
“Oh speak my doom, dear maid,” I cried,
“By yon bright Heaven above thee;”
She gently raised her eyes and sighed,
“Too well you know I love thee.”