’t was summer, and the spot a cool retreat—
Where curious eyes came not, nor footstep rude
Disturbed the lovers’ chosen solitude:
Beneath an oak there was a mossy seat,
Where we reclined, while birds above us wooed
Their mates in songs voluptuously sweet.
A limpid brook went murmuring by our feet,
And all conspired to urge the tender mood...
-
-
There ’s not a breath the dewy leaves to stir;
There ’s not a cloud to spot the sapphire sky;
All Nature seems a silent worshipper:
While saintly Dian, with great, argent eye,
Looks down as lucid from the depths on high
As she to Earth were Heaven’s interpreter;
Each twinkling little star shrinks back, too shy
Its lesser glory to obtrude... -
Come to me, angel of the weary hearted!
Since they my loved ones, breathed upon by thee,
Unto thy realms unreal have departed,
I too may rest—even I: ah! haste to me.I dare not bid thy darker, colder brother
With his more welcome offering appear,
For those sweet lips at morn will murmur, “Mother,”
And who shall soothe them if I... -
She comes—the spirit of the dance!
And but for those large, eloquent eyes,
Where passion speaks in every glance,
She ’d seem a wanderer from the skies.So light that, gazing breathless there,
Lest the celestial dream should go,
You ’d think the music in the air
Waved the fair vision to and fro!Or that the melody’s...
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A dryad’s home was once the tree
From which they carved this wondrous toy,
Who chanted lays of love and glee,
Till every leaflet thrilled with joy.But when the tempest laid it low,
The exiled fay flew to and fro;
Till finding here her home once more,
She warbles wildly as before! -
a whisper woke the air,
A soft, light tone, and low,
Yet barbed with shame and woe.
Ah! might it only perish there,
Nor farther go!But no! a quick and eager ear
Caught up the little, meaning sound;
Another voice has breathed it clear;
And so it wandered round
From ear to lip, from lip to... -
Your heart is a music-box, dearest!
With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,
If tried by a delicate hand;
But its workmanship, love, is so fine,
At a single rude touch it would break;
Then, oh! be the magic key mine,
Its fairy-like whispers to wake.
And there ’s one little tune it can play,... -
The hand that swept the sounding lyre
With more than mortal skill,
The lightning eye, the heart of fire,
The fervent lip are still!
No more, in rapture or in woe,
With melody to thrill,
Ah, nevermore!But angel hands shall bring him balm
For every grief he knew,
And Heaven’s soft harps his soul shall calm... -
His echoing axe the settler swung
Amid the sea-like solitude,
And rushing, thundering, down were flung
The Titans of the wood;
Loud shrieked the eagle as he dashed
From out his mossy nest, which crashed
With its supporting bough,
And the first sunlight, leaping, flashed
On the wolf’s haunt below.Rude was...
-
Tameless in his stately pride, along the lake of islands,
Tireless speeds the lonely loon upon his diving track;—
Emerald and gold emblazon, satin-like, his shoulder,
Ebony and pearl inlay, mosaic-like, his back.
Sailing, thus sailing, thus sails the brindled loon,
When the wave rolls black with storm, of sleeps in summer noon.Sailing...