 | Magnolia Leaves |  |
A REVERIE.
You may speak of a grave in a distant land,
Or of one 'neath ocean's foam,
Where the dolphins play o'er the sunny spray,
Far from the dear old home;
Where the coral peaks form a glorious tomb,
And the mighty waters lave,
But there is naught in the wide world sought
Like the heart's deep anguished grave.
Or of one 'neath ocean's foam,
Where the dolphins play o'er the sunny spray,
Far from the dear old home;
Where the coral peaks form a glorious tomb,
And the mighty waters lave,
But there is naught in the wide world sought
Like the heart's deep anguished grave.
You may tell of a grave 'neath the burning sands
Of the tropics fevered zone;
Where silence reigns o'er the desert plains
So desolate, so forlorn.
Where the lion's roar is the liveliest sound
That o'er that waste is heard—
And the forest bird hymns a plaintive lay,
A requiem for the dead.
Of the tropics fevered zone;
Where silence reigns o'er the desert plains
So desolate, so forlorn.
Where the lion's roar is the liveliest sound
That o'er that waste is heard—
And the forest bird hymns a plaintive lay,
A requiem for the dead.
Again you may tell of a grave unsought
Far from the home of youth;
Where the willow weeps as the exile sleeps
Akin to Mother Earth.
But O! methinks, there's not a woe
That can the bosom cleave,
Or as deeply wound, as the lowly mound
O'er the heart's deep, anguished grave.
Far from the home of youth;
Where the willow weeps as the exile sleeps
Akin to Mother Earth.
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That can the bosom cleave,
Or as deeply wound, as the lowly mound
O'er the heart's deep, anguished grave.
| Magnolia Leaves | |