Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XXXI.
Lines on Friendship.
There is many a friend
Would be kind if he could;
But his feelings are cold,
And his kindness is rude.
When the waters of sorrow
In calmness grow cool,
He throws in a pebble,
And troubles the pool.
Would be kind if he could;
But his feelings are cold,
And his kindness is rude.
When the waters of sorrow
In calmness grow cool,
He throws in a pebble,
And troubles the pool.
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There are moments when sadness
And silence are best;
When the soul in the depths
Of its thoughts seeks for rest;
When the sea and the shore
And the wood bring delight,
And the dreams of our youth,
And the darkness of night.
And silence are best;
When the soul in the depths
Of its thoughts seeks for rest;
When the sea and the shore
And the wood bring delight,
And the dreams of our youth,
And the darkness of night.
The morning of youth
Yields me many a dream;
But sad the remembrance,
And mournful the theme:
Companions of boyhood
Have sailed o'er the wave,
And the friend of my childhood
Lies cold in the grave.
Yields me many a dream;
But sad the remembrance,
And mournful the theme:
Companions of boyhood
Have sailed o'er the wave,
And the friend of my childhood
Lies cold in the grave.
Oh! many a sorrow
And sigh has been mine;
But I wanted a breast
Where my head might recline:
In my musings I oft
For a sister have sighed,
With a bosom of softness;
But that was denied.
And sigh has been mine;
But I wanted a breast
Where my head might recline:
In my musings I oft
For a sister have sighed,
With a bosom of softness;
But that was denied.
My heart has been wounded—
That wound is not heal'd;
My soul's keenest anguish
Was never reveal'd:
It was sever'd in youth
From the one that I lov'd;
That loves it in sorrow
Tho' far, far remov'd.
That wound is not heal'd;
My soul's keenest anguish
Was never reveal'd:
It was sever'd in youth
From the one that I lov'd;
That loves it in sorrow
Tho' far, far remov'd.
The heart is a fountain
Whose waters o'erflow;
The heart is a garden
Where sweet flowers will grow:
If a friend or a lover
But water the flowers,
And affection's dews fall
On the fountain like showers.
Whose waters o'erflow;
The heart is a garden
Where sweet flowers will grow:
If a friend or a lover
But water the flowers,
And affection's dews fall
On the fountain like showers.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |