 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
110
I SING TO HIM.
I sing to him! I dream he hears
The song he used to love,
And oft that blesséd fancy cheers
And bears my thoughts above.
Ye say 't is idle thus to dream—
But why believe it so?
It is the spirit's meteor gleam
To soothe the pang of wo.
The song he used to love,
And oft that blesséd fancy cheers
And bears my thoughts above.
Ye say 't is idle thus to dream—
But why believe it so?
It is the spirit's meteor gleam
To soothe the pang of wo.
Love gives to nature's voice a tone
That true hearts understand,—
The sky, the earth, the forest lone
Are peopled by his wand;
Sweet fancies all our pulses thrill
While gazing on a flower,
And from the gently whisp'ring rill
Is heard the words of power.
That true hearts understand,—
The sky, the earth, the forest lone
Are peopled by his wand;
Sweet fancies all our pulses thrill
While gazing on a flower,
And from the gently whisp'ring rill
Is heard the words of power.
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I breathe the dear and cherished name,
And long-lost scenes arise;
Life's glowing landscape spreads the same;
The same Hope's kindling skies;—
The violet bank, the moss-fringed seat
Beneath the drooping tree,
The clock that chimed the hour to meet,
My buried love, with thee—
And long-lost scenes arise;
Life's glowing landscape spreads the same;
The same Hope's kindling skies;—
The violet bank, the moss-fringed seat
Beneath the drooping tree,
The clock that chimed the hour to meet,
My buried love, with thee—
O, these are all before me, when
In fancy's realms I rove;
Why urge me to the world again?
Why say the ties of love,
That death's cold, cruel grasp has riven,
Unite no more below?
I'll sing to him,—for though in heaven,
He surely heeds my wo!
In fancy's realms I rove;
Why urge me to the world again?
Why say the ties of love,
That death's cold, cruel grasp has riven,
Unite no more below?
I'll sing to him,—for though in heaven,
He surely heeds my wo!
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |