 | [Songs and sketches] |  |
6
REMEMBERED MUSIC.
“If I could hear that laughing voice again,
But once again! how oft it wanders by,
In the still hours, like some remembered strain,
Troubling the heart with its wild melody!”
But once again! how oft it wanders by,
In the still hours, like some remembered strain,
Troubling the heart with its wild melody!”
The fragment of a pleasant song
Is murmuring in our ears,
And we would fain the sounds prolong,
Though much they move our tears.
They breathe a low and pensive lay,
But one we love full well,
For oh! it sends our thoughts away
To many a bright and happy day
In that lone quiet dell.
Is murmuring in our ears,
And we would fain the sounds prolong,
Though much they move our tears.
They breathe a low and pensive lay,
But one we love full well,
For oh! it sends our thoughts away
To many a bright and happy day
In that lone quiet dell.
7
The simple voice that warbled then
Is hushed, and all is still:
And notes that echoed through the glen,
Are dying on the hill,—
Yet sometimes Fancy wakes the strain,
And floats on Memory's waves
The music of that voice again,—
But ah! we linger all in vain
Among the village graves!
Is hushed, and all is still:
And notes that echoed through the glen,
Are dying on the hill,—
Yet sometimes Fancy wakes the strain,
And floats on Memory's waves
The music of that voice again,—
But ah! we linger all in vain
Among the village graves!
8
I'VE LIVED UPON THY MEMORY.
I've lived upon thy memory—
I knew that thou wert mine
When first I took that trembling hand,
And pressed those lips of thine;
And now I care not what my lot
On life's wide shore may be,
So I may look upon thy face,
And dwell, my love, with thee.
I knew that thou wert mine
When first I took that trembling hand,
And pressed those lips of thine;
And now I care not what my lot
On life's wide shore may be,
So I may look upon thy face,
And dwell, my love, with thee.
I 've lived upon thy memory
For many a long, long year,
And though I loitered on the road,
My heart was ever here;
Beneath another sky I've slept—
It was my fate to roam—
But all my dreams of happiness
Were made of thee and home.
For many a long, long year,
And though I loitered on the road,
My heart was ever here;
Beneath another sky I've slept—
It was my fate to roam—
But all my dreams of happiness
Were made of thee and home.
Oh! I have wandered many miles
Far o'er the beauteous earth,
But never passed a sunnier land
Than that which gave me birth—
Where blooms the fairest rose of all
Down in a quiet glen;
It is mine own—that little flower
Hath called me back again.
Far o'er the beauteous earth,
But never passed a sunnier land
Than that which gave me birth—
Where blooms the fairest rose of all
Down in a quiet glen;
It is mine own—that little flower
Hath called me back again.
9
SLEIGHING SONG.
O swift we go o'er the fleecy snow,
When moonbeams sparkle round;
When hoofs keep time to music's chime,
As merrily on we bound.
When moonbeams sparkle round;
When hoofs keep time to music's chime,
As merrily on we bound.
On a winter's night, when hearts are light,
And health is on the wind,
We loose the rein and sweep the plain,
And leave our cares behind.
And health is on the wind,
We loose the rein and sweep the plain,
And leave our cares behind.
With a laugh and song, we glide along
Across the fleeting snow;
With friends beside, how swift we ride
On the beautiful track below!
Across the fleeting snow;
With friends beside, how swift we ride
On the beautiful track below!
O! the raging sea, has joy for me,
When gale and tempests roar;
But give me the speed of a foaming steed,
And I'll ask for the waves no more.
When gale and tempests roar;
But give me the speed of a foaming steed,
And I'll ask for the waves no more.
THE INDIAN BOYS.
Shady and cool their home lay hid,
Where first the violet weaves
Its vernal beauty with the rose,
Among the forest leaves.
Where first the violet weaves
Its vernal beauty with the rose,
Among the forest leaves.
10
Where iris blossoms strew the sod,
And kalmias bloom around,
And where the green-sward meets the lake,
They had their sporting ground.
And kalmias bloom around,
And where the green-sward meets the lake,
They had their sporting ground.
Their wigwam opened on the vine,
That o'er its rafters hung;
And robins, building near the spot,
Above their roof-tree sung.
That o'er its rafters hung;
And robins, building near the spot,
Above their roof-tree sung.
Each morn they woke to brush the dew
From many a bush and lea,
And all their noon-day paths sloped down
Beside the chestnut tree.
From many a bush and lea,
And all their noon-day paths sloped down
Beside the chestnut tree.
They sought the hiding squirrel's nest,
Far up the woody hill,
And bathed their reeking foreheads cool
In bubbling mountain rill.
Far up the woody hill,
And bathed their reeking foreheads cool
In bubbling mountain rill.
They watched the stars drop silently,
On darkling bough and plain,
And they loved to hear the merry chime
Of summer evening rain;
On darkling bough and plain,
And they loved to hear the merry chime
Of summer evening rain;
They saw the early golden moon
Rise from her wavy bower,
And in her beams they chased the bat
From out his leafy tower.
Rise from her wavy bower,
And in her beams they chased the bat
From out his leafy tower.
11
They miss these haunts—the city air
To them no music brings,
They pine for brook and water-fall,
Where Nature ever sings.
To them no music brings,
They pine for brook and water-fall,
Where Nature ever sings.
They droop amid the noise and glare,
They sigh for fount and glen,—
Oh, take them back, far, far away,
To their own home again.
They sigh for fount and glen,—
Oh, take them back, far, far away,
To their own home again.
TO A CHURCH STEEPLE.
Welcome! my ancient friend!
Thrice welcome to my sight;
Where falls thy shadow I shall wend
My willing steps to-night.
Around thy base I played
In childhood's thoughtless glee,
Old spire, again tow'rd thee I've strayed—
Dost thou remember me?
Thrice welcome to my sight;
Where falls thy shadow I shall wend
My willing steps to-night.
Around thy base I played
In childhood's thoughtless glee,
Old spire, again tow'rd thee I've strayed—
Dost thou remember me?
Pleasant the first faint ray
Of morning light appears
To those who wait the coming day,
And watch through many tears;
And sweet the evening star
Gleams from the shadowy sky,
On mariners, who've wandered far
From land with weary eye.
Of morning light appears
To those who wait the coming day,
And watch through many tears;
And sweet the evening star
Gleams from the shadowy sky,
On mariners, who've wandered far
From land with weary eye.
12
So breaks upon my path
Thy tall familiar form,
A cheering look to me it hath,
Like sunshine after storm;
And quick as lives a thought,
Or bird skims o'er the vane,
My heart leaped up, when memory caught
Thy slender top again.
Thy tall familiar form,
A cheering look to me it hath,
Like sunshine after storm;
And quick as lives a thought,
Or bird skims o'er the vane,
My heart leaped up, when memory caught
Thy slender top again.
Welcome! my ancient friend!
Thrice welcome to my sight,
Where falls thy shadow, I shall wend
My willing steps to-night.
Thanks, thanks—out on the sea
Thou wav'st a greeting home,
I knew thou would'st remember me,
Old spire, I come! I come!
Thrice welcome to my sight,
Where falls thy shadow, I shall wend
My willing steps to-night.
Thanks, thanks—out on the sea
Thou wav'st a greeting home,
I knew thou would'st remember me,
Old spire, I come! I come!
VESPER MELODIES.
How dear to me that evening song,
So gently rising o'er the lake,—
Nor harp, nor lute, nor minstrel-throng
To me, can sweeter music make.
So gently rising o'er the lake,—
Nor harp, nor lute, nor minstrel-throng
To me, can sweeter music make.
13
If falters now! ye rippling waves
Float on your billowy breasts the strain,
And rest not till the anthem laves
The pebbles at my feet again.
Float on your billowy breasts the strain,
And rest not till the anthem laves
The pebbles at my feet again.
Oh, wind and wave but serve me fair,
And bring Almeda's song to shore—
And ye may hold your revels there,
In noise and foam till night is o'er!
And bring Almeda's song to shore—
And ye may hold your revels there,
In noise and foam till night is o'er!
14
TO THE DAUGHTER OF A FRIEND.
I will not praise thy many virtues, Mary,
Nor all that sparkles in thy fair young face;
Of themes like these a poet should be wary,
Who lacks the skill to give such themes a grace.
Nor all that sparkles in thy fair young face;
Of themes like these a poet should be wary,
Who lacks the skill to give such themes a grace.
But I will wish thee to be like thy mother,
Like her to sail life's calm or ruffled sea,—
She loves thee, Mary, and there breathes no other
With purer heart, more closely bound to thee.
Like her to sail life's calm or ruffled sea,—
She loves thee, Mary, and there breathes no other
With purer heart, more closely bound to thee.
15
Through every scene, a mother's holy blessing,
Unchanged, still lingers, though the world assail,—
Without that boon life were not worth possessing,
Trust that friend, Mary, though all else should fail.
Unchanged, still lingers, though the world assail,—
Without that boon life were not worth possessing,
Trust that friend, Mary, though all else should fail.
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