 | Hours at Naples, and Other Poems |  |
A SWEET VOICE.
A sweet voice, a clear voice, a soft voice, 'twas I heard,
'Twixt a whisper and warble seemed every dear word;
It was soft as the Echo that haunts the lone shore,
Oh! when shall I hear its low music once more!
'Twixt a whisper and warble seemed every dear word;
It was soft as the Echo that haunts the lone shore,
Oh! when shall I hear its low music once more!
Strange—how strange—that a whisper like that should destroy
All my peace, all my hopes, all my comfort and joy;
The moment its sweet music first struck my ear,
I felt 'twas the whisper of Fate—full and clear!
All my peace, all my hopes, all my comfort and joy;
The moment its sweet music first struck my ear,
I felt 'twas the whisper of Fate—full and clear!
| Hours at Naples, and Other Poems | |