 | The forest minstrel |  |
108
DREAMS.
How sweet the dreams of joy and love,
That visit our repose!
Like gentle spirits from above,
With balsam for our woes.
That visit our repose!
Like gentle spirits from above,
With balsam for our woes.
How soft the dreaming angels come,
And lay their shadowy wings
O'er all the sorrows of my lot,
And all unpleasant things.
And lay their shadowy wings
O'er all the sorrows of my lot,
And all unpleasant things.
Then cares and pains of recent years,
And darker things are hid;
While tenderly they kiss the tears
From off the trembling lid.
And darker things are hid;
While tenderly they kiss the tears
From off the trembling lid.
And then from Memory's treasured wreath,
They cull the holiest flowers;
And build, and deck in richest bloom,
A thousand fairy bowers;
They cull the holiest flowers;
And build, and deck in richest bloom,
A thousand fairy bowers;
And tenant them with fair bright things,
That long from me have fled,
Some, on their own inconstant wings,
Some, to the dreamless bed.
That long from me have fled,
Some, on their own inconstant wings,
Some, to the dreamless bed.
109
My early home, with all its joys,
Is spread before me then,
And tender tones and beaming eyes
Speak to my soul again.
Is spread before me then,
And tender tones and beaming eyes
Speak to my soul again.
Again the garden, field, and grove,
Are rich with fruits and flowers;
And birds are singing in their love,
In all the breezy bowers.
Are rich with fruits and flowers;
And birds are singing in their love,
In all the breezy bowers.
And voices, sweeter than the birds,
More fragrant than the flowers,
With melody of gentle words,
Enchant the joyous hours.
More fragrant than the flowers,
With melody of gentle words,
Enchant the joyous hours.
Then every tone, and glance, and smile,
Is innocence and truth;
And earnest hearts unite the while,
In firmest faith of youth.
Is innocence and truth;
And earnest hearts unite the while,
In firmest faith of youth.
Affections long since wrecked, or dead,
Are warm and trusted then;
And beauteous, from the grass-grown bed,
My lost ones come again.
Are warm and trusted then;
And beauteous, from the grass-grown bed,
My lost ones come again.
Oh! where have young life's dear delights
Found an abiding home?
From whence to bless these joyless nights,
Their dreamy spirits come?
Found an abiding home?
From whence to bless these joyless nights,
Their dreamy spirits come?
| The forest minstrel | |