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54
STANZAS.
['Twas at the gentle, silvery fall of day]
'Twas at the gentle, silvery fall of day,
Stretch'd at my length, beneath a weeping willow,
Oppress'd with heat and thought I slumbering lay,
Lull'd by the ripplings of the stream's light billow.
While there I slept, my vivid fancy form'd
A vision fraught with misery and woe:—
Oh may I aught by grief or pain deform'd
Only on summer eves in slumber know!
Stretch'd at my length, beneath a weeping willow,
Oppress'd with heat and thought I slumbering lay,
Lull'd by the ripplings of the stream's light billow.
While there I slept, my vivid fancy form'd
A vision fraught with misery and woe:—
Oh may I aught by grief or pain deform'd
Only on summer eves in slumber know!
Sighs rent my bosom, tears bedew'd my eyes;
But soon I woke, and, to my joy, I knew
There were no sighs but Evening's zephyr sighs;
No tears but rose and lily's tears of dew!
Oh then the rapturous joy that thrill'd my form,
To find my grief, child of a dreamy hour,
Was like the sunshine breaking on the storm,
The rainbow rising o'er the sweeping shower.
But soon I woke, and, to my joy, I knew
There were no sighs but Evening's zephyr sighs;
No tears but rose and lily's tears of dew!
Oh then the rapturous joy that thrill'd my form,
To find my grief, child of a dreamy hour,
Was like the sunshine breaking on the storm,
The rainbow rising o'er the sweeping shower.
55
These visions of affliction, then, I thought,
Are like the quarrels which fond lovers grieve;
For though they painful are, they are but short,
And they no anguish'd sting behind them leave.
Love is asleep when these light storms are breaking,
And though we anguish feel, the while they last,
Yet, when he wakes, what joy brings that awaking,
To think that all our sleeping woe is past.
Are like the quarrels which fond lovers grieve;
For though they painful are, they are but short,
And they no anguish'd sting behind them leave.
Love is asleep when these light storms are breaking,
And though we anguish feel, the while they last,
Yet, when he wakes, what joy brings that awaking,
To think that all our sleeping woe is past.
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