 | The forest minstrel |  |
84
TO THE SEDOLEO.
Sweetest of the hymning band,
That come on spirit wing,
Chaunting through the listening land
The presence of the spring.
That come on spirit wing,
Chaunting through the listening land
The presence of the spring.
When the soft blue eye of day
First opens on thy nest,
Lighting with its emerald ray
The forest's leafy crest,
First opens on thy nest,
Lighting with its emerald ray
The forest's leafy crest,
Softly through the spirit streams
Thy mellow joyous lay,
Mingling with our troubled dreams,
And melting them away.
Thy mellow joyous lay,
Mingling with our troubled dreams,
And melting them away.
Like a tuneful angel's hymn,
Thrilling through the soul,
Ere life's cares and shadows dim
Assert their stern control;
Thrilling through the soul,
Ere life's cares and shadows dim
Assert their stern control;
Bearing up the soul to God,
Source of joy and light;
In one full melodious flood,
Drowning all of night.
Source of joy and light;
In one full melodious flood,
Drowning all of night.
85
When the busy burning day,
With his toil and care,
Passes to the west away,
And lingers smiling there;
With his toil and care,
Passes to the west away,
And lingers smiling there;
Free from toil and turmoil now,
In the blessed calm,
Gratefully we bathe the brow
In evening breath of balm.
In the blessed calm,
Gratefully we bathe the brow
In evening breath of balm.
While the fevered pulse subsides,
And the mind grows still,
While gray evening's drapery hides
All of earthly ill;
And the mind grows still,
While gray evening's drapery hides
All of earthly ill;
Then thy plaintive flute-like lay,
From the shadowy trees,
Fills with soothing melody
The cool refreshing breeze.
From the shadowy trees,
Fills with soothing melody
The cool refreshing breeze.
Sweetest of the birds of spring!
Oft at dreamy even
I have thought thy damask wing
Came fresh and pure from heaven;
Oft at dreamy even
I have thought thy damask wing
Came fresh and pure from heaven;
That thou wert a spirit bright,
Missioned from above,
Plumed with joy's own rosy light,
And voiced with holy love.
Missioned from above,
Plumed with joy's own rosy light,
And voiced with holy love.
Seraph of the twilight hour,
Sure of heaven thou art,
Hushing with melodious power
The wrung and throbbing heart.
Sure of heaven thou art,
Hushing with melodious power
The wrung and throbbing heart.
| The forest minstrel | |