Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/234
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THE SONG OF THE STREAMS.
Salutes us, save the snow and chilling blast,
And all the guardian fiends of Winter's throne.
Such too is life—ten thousand perils past,
Our fame is vapour, and our mirth a groan.
But patience; till the veil be rent away,
And on our vision flash celestial day.
And all the guardian fiends of Winter's throne.
Such too is life—ten thousand perils past,
Our fame is vapour, and our mirth a groan.
But patience; till the veil be rent away,
And on our vision flash celestial day.
The Song of the Streams.
We trill a hymn to the evening dim,
When the golden sunset dies,
And the sweet-voiced praise of the song we raise
Ascends to the starry skies.
We lull to rest on the earth's green breast
The blushing, bright eyed flowers,
Where Nature weaves, with her festooned leaves,
Her home in the summer bowers.
Our strains are heard when the forest bird
No more to the echo sings,
While the lover's tale in the silent vale
To the fond heart rapture brings.
When the golden sunset dies,
And the sweet-voiced praise of the song we raise
Ascends to the starry skies.
We lull to rest on the earth's green breast
The blushing, bright eyed flowers,
Where Nature weaves, with her festooned leaves,
Her home in the summer bowers.
Our strains are heard when the forest bird
No more to the echo sings,
While the lover's tale in the silent vale
To the fond heart rapture brings.
When the fairy queen to the woodland green
Hath gone with her maidens gay,
To dance awhile in the silver smile
Of the bright moon's mystic ray.
They one and all in their forest hall,
Whose lamps are the stars above,
Glide round and round o'er the dewy ground,
Like a dream of joy and love;
And ours the song of the unseen throng
In their wanton mazy whirls,
As they lightly pass o'er the trembling grass,
Adorned with its liquid pearls.
Hath gone with her maidens gay,
To dance awhile in the silver smile
Of the bright moon's mystic ray.
They one and all in their forest hall,
Whose lamps are the stars above,
Glide round and round o'er the dewy ground,
Like a dream of joy and love;
And ours the song of the unseen throng
In their wanton mazy whirls,
As they lightly pass o'er the trembling grass,
Adorned with its liquid pearls.
When the golden rays of the orient blaze
Come over the purple hills,
And sunshine looks on the dancing brooks,
And smiles to the laughing rills,
Our lay ascends till its music blends
With the lark's song sweet and rare,
Till wafted far, where the morning star
Shines dim through the crystal air.
Then the fair light beams till the matin dreams
Of the silken blossoms die,
As the wild bee's hum and the zephyrs come,
And mirthfully murmur by.
Come over the purple hills,
And sunshine looks on the dancing brooks,
And smiles to the laughing rills,
Our lay ascends till its music blends
With the lark's song sweet and rare,
Till wafted far, where the morning star
Shines dim through the crystal air.
Then the fair light beams till the matin dreams
Of the silken blossoms die,
As the wild bee's hum and the zephyrs come,
And mirthfully murmur by.