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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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132

HUSH, HUSH!

Hush, hush!”—how well
That sweet word sounds,
When Love, the little sentinel,
Walks his night-rounds;
Then, if a foot but dare
One rose-leaf crush,
Myriads of voices in the air
Whisper, “Hush, hush!”
“Hark, hark, 'tis he!”
The night elves cry,
And hush their fairy harmony,
While he steals by;
But if his silv'ry feet
One dew-drop brush,
Voices are heard in chorus sweet,
Whispering, “Hush, hush!”