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MUSIC ON THE CANAL.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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147

MUSIC ON THE CANAL.

I was weary with the day-light,
I was weary with the shade,
And my heart became still sadder,
As the stars their light betrayed;
I sickened at the ripple,
As the lazy boat went on,
And felt as though a friend was lost
When the twilight ray was gone.
The meadows in a fire-fly glow,
Looked gay to happy eyes;
To me they beamed but mournfully,
My heart was cold with sighs.
They seemed, indeed, like summer friends;—
Alas, no warmth had they!
I turned in sorrow from their glare,
Impatient turned away.

148

And tear-drops gathered in my eyes,
And rolled upon my cheek,
And when the voice of mirth was heard,
I had no heart to speak.
I longed to press my children
To my sad and homesick breast,
And feel the constant hand of love
Caressing and carest.
And slowly went my languid pulse
As the slow canal boat goes;
And I felt the pain of weariness,
And sigh'd for home's repose;
And laughter seemed a mockery,
And joy a fleeting breath,
And life a dark volcanic crust
That crumbles over death.
But a strain of sweetest melody
Arose upon my ear,
The blessed sound of woman's voice,
That angels love to hear!
And manly strains of tenderness
Were mingled with the song,
A father's with his daughter's notes,—
The gentle with the strong.

149

And my thoughts began to soften
Like snows when waters fall,
And open, as the frost-closed buds
When spring's young breezes call;
While to my faint and weary soul
A better hope was given,
And all once more was bright with faith,
'Twixt heart, and earth, and Heaven.
Mohawk River, N. Y.