 | Songs at the Start |  |
52
MOUNT AUBURN IN MAY.
This is earth's liberty-day:
Yonder the linden-trees sway
To music of winds from the west,
And I hear the old merry refrain,
Of the stream that has broken its chain
By the gates of the City of Rest,
Yonder the linden-trees sway
To music of winds from the west,
And I hear the old merry refrain,
Of the stream that has broken its chain
By the gates of the City of Rest,
The City whose exquisite towers
I see thro' the sunny long hours
If but from my window I lean;
Yea, dearest! thy threshold of stone,
Thine ivy-grown door and my own
Have naught save the river between.
I see thro' the sunny long hours
If but from my window I lean;
Yea, dearest! thy threshold of stone,
Thine ivy-grown door and my own
Have naught save the river between.
Thine on that heavenly height
Are beauty, and warmth, and delight;
And long as our parting shall be,
Live there in thy summer! nor know
How near lie the frost and the snow
On hearts that are breaking for thee.
Are beauty, and warmth, and delight;
And long as our parting shall be,
Live there in thy summer! nor know
How near lie the frost and the snow
On hearts that are breaking for thee.
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