 | Song and Story |  |
162
CONSOLATION.
When all my life was wounded and forlorn,
It felt the sacred influence wrought by thee,
As when sweet airy couriers of the morn
Fling rosy prophecies o'er shadowed sea!
It felt the sacred influence wrought by thee,
As when sweet airy couriers of the morn
Fling rosy prophecies o'er shadowed sea!
And now, though manlier force yet droop and fail,
Though deathless memories haunt me past control,
Dear spirit of peace, thou art the nightingale
That warbles amid the darkness of my soul!
Though deathless memories haunt me past control,
Dear spirit of peace, thou art the nightingale
That warbles amid the darkness of my soul!
| Song and Story | |