I know not the words or the symphony, 'Twas all so full of harmony, I failed to remember the air. Once Eva's gentle accents rose A little above the calm repose Of Annie's, liquid and rare. 'Tis a perilous post to sit and hear Sounds falling so sweetly on the ear; You half feel bound to adore At least the voice of the one who sings, Ended, at last, in a burst of song, XII. There is a soul within the song A soul that speaks unto the soul Till struggles past, 'midst earthly strife, Prepare the way for purer life. There is a something in the morn, And nature rises from its sleep, As slowly the long shadows creep. A Life, that bade all others live ; A Soul, that joyed each soul to give ; With hopes for health and lengthened days: Which all desire when life shall cease. In the morning light how the lark sings hymns, Warming the young 'neath his downy breast. And that song had touched my soul, till plain These thoughts passed through a restless brain. XIII. The evening is passing quickly by, Gay are our smiles, and cheerfully As suns of southern climes. D Stories of British heroes told, Serve history's pages to unfold, Relieving these with rhymes. Until from the neighbouring church towers, The time has passed so merrily, We wish it were but eight. I really know not how to refuse ; I will come, and with me a budget of news. Who envies me not such a fate? XIV. Standing at the door, Wishing us good-bye, Moonlight on the floor, Streaming from the sky. Wishing us good-night, Sleep and happy dreams; In the placid light, Lovely, Eva seems. Glowing are her eyes, Hark! a soft adieu, Like to music falls : Or the silent dew, Upon ruined walls. Annie bends her head, Whispers, "Soon return!" I could see Alfred, Mark his visage burn. I could hear a sigh, Rising from her breast; See a hand so nigh, I could mark a kiss, For a night like this, Love must all command. |