 | The forest minstrel |  |
COME TO THE WOODS.
Come to the woods in June,
'Tis happiness to rove
When Nature's lyres are all in tune,
And life all full of love.
Come, when the morning light,
Advancing from afar,
Veils, with a glory soft and bright,
Her smiling favourite star.
While from the dewy dells,
And every wild-wood bower,
A thousand little feathered bells
Ring out the matin hour.
'Tis happiness to rove
When Nature's lyres are all in tune,
And life all full of love.
Come, when the morning light,
Advancing from afar,
Veils, with a glory soft and bright,
Her smiling favourite star.
While from the dewy dells,
And every wild-wood bower,
A thousand little feathered bells
Ring out the matin hour.
Come, when the sun is high,
And earth all full in bloom,
When every passing summer sigh
Is languid with perfume;—
When by the mountain brook
The watchful red-deer lies;
And spotted fawns, in mossy nook,
Have closed their wild, bright eyes;—
While from the giant tree,
And fairy of the sod,
A dreamy wind-harp melody
Speaks to the soul of God,
Whose beauteous gifts of love,
The passing hours unfold,
Till e'en the sombre hemlock boughs
Are tipped with fringe of gold.
And earth all full in bloom,
When every passing summer sigh
Is languid with perfume;—
When by the mountain brook
The watchful red-deer lies;
And spotted fawns, in mossy nook,
Have closed their wild, bright eyes;—
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And fairy of the sod,
A dreamy wind-harp melody
Speaks to the soul of God,
Whose beauteous gifts of love,
The passing hours unfold,
Till e'en the sombre hemlock boughs
Are tipped with fringe of gold.
Come, when the sun is set,
And see along the west
Heaven's glory, streaming through the gate
By which he passed to rest.
While brooklets, as they flow
Beneath the cool sweet bowers,
Sing fairy legends, soft and low,
To groups of listening flowers;
And creeping formless shades
Make distance strange and dim,
And with the daylight softly fades
The wild bird's evening hymn.
And see along the west
Heaven's glory, streaming through the gate
By which he passed to rest.
While brooklets, as they flow
Beneath the cool sweet bowers,
Sing fairy legends, soft and low,
To groups of listening flowers;
And creeping formless shades
Make distance strange and dim,
And with the daylight softly fades
The wild bird's evening hymn.
Come, when the woods are dark,
And winds go fluttering by,
While here and there a phantom bark
Floats in the deep blue sky;
While gleaming far away
Beyond th' aerial flood,
Lies in its starry majesty
The city of our God.
And winds go fluttering by,
While here and there a phantom bark
Floats in the deep blue sky;
While gleaming far away
Beyond th' aerial flood,
Lies in its starry majesty
The city of our God.
Come to the dim path now,
'Tis sweet to wander long,
With spirit mingling in the flow
Of lone Edoleo's song.
No human heart is near,
To give us sigh for sigh,
But blending with the living air,
Sweet spirits hover nigh.
Softly they bid us kneel
Upon the mossy sod,
Then, smiling, draw aside the veil
That shuts the soul from God.
'Tis sweet to wander long,
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Of lone Edoleo's song.
No human heart is near,
To give us sigh for sigh,
But blending with the living air,
Sweet spirits hover nigh.
Softly they bid us kneel
Upon the mossy sod,
Then, smiling, draw aside the veil
That shuts the soul from God.
Come to the forest now,
If thou art fair and gay,—
Here are bright chaplets for thy brow,
And songs of love all day.
If thou art fair and gay,—
Here are bright chaplets for thy brow,
And songs of love all day.
Come, if thy heart is lone,
Here are pale wreaths for thee,
Soft twilight, and the soothing tone
Of nature's melody.
Here are pale wreaths for thee,
Soft twilight, and the soothing tone
Of nature's melody.
Come, if thy soul is wrung
And feels the need of grace,
Soft voices, the dark woods among,
Say, God is in this place!
And feels the need of grace,
Soft voices, the dark woods among,
Say, God is in this place!
| The forest minstrel | |