 | Verses from The island book |  |
10
SONG.
O let no change in after years
Efface the magic spell,
That fancy weaves around these scenes
Where memory loves to dwell!
Amidst the toiling throngs of life,
The world's most tainted air,
O keep unstained from vulgar strife
The feelings cherished here!
Efface the magic spell,
That fancy weaves around these scenes
Where memory loves to dwell!
Amidst the toiling throngs of life,
The world's most tainted air,
O keep unstained from vulgar strife
The feelings cherished here!
We'll then, as now, round friendship's shrine
The heart's libation pour,
And sadly still fresh garlands twine,
At twilight's musing hour.
The heart's libation pour,
And sadly still fresh garlands twine,
At twilight's musing hour.
When loudly moans the autumn gale,
In storm the daylight fades,
And life-like tones of seeming wail
Sound through the forest glades,—
O they, the loved of other days,
How fondly then they seem
To hover round our thoughtful gaze,
Like a remembered dream!
In storm the daylight fades,
And life-like tones of seeming wail
Sound through the forest glades,—
O they, the loved of other days,
How fondly then they seem
11
Like a remembered dream!
We'll then, as now, round friendship's shrine
The heart's libation pour,
And sadly still fresh garlands twine,
At twilight's musing hour.
The heart's libation pour,
And sadly still fresh garlands twine,
At twilight's musing hour.
And when the tranquil summer air
Breathes on its earliest flowers,
The thought, amid these scenes so fair,
Steals o'er our happiest hours
Of those whom oft with joy we met:—
They still are lingering near;
We meet them yet, we meet them yet,
In storm and sunshine here.
Breathes on its earliest flowers,
The thought, amid these scenes so fair,
Steals o'er our happiest hours
Of those whom oft with joy we met:—
They still are lingering near;
We meet them yet, we meet them yet,
In storm and sunshine here.
We'll now, as then, round friendship's shrine
The heart's libation pour,
And sadly still fresh garlands twine,
At twilight's musing hour.
The heart's libation pour,
And sadly still fresh garlands twine,
At twilight's musing hour.
Oct. 1841.
| Verses from The island book | |