SONGS OF THE SWALLOW.
43
And all in that pleasant and balmy time,
There never will be a bird so blest;
And the days are growing longer.
There never will be a bird so blest;
And the days are growing longer.
SUMMER.
Now sinks the Summer sun into the sea:
Sure never such a sunset shone as this,
That on its golden wing has borne such bliss;
Dear Love to thee and me.
Sure never such a sunset shone as this,
That on its golden wing has borne such bliss;
Dear Love to thee and me.
Ah, life was drear and lonely, missing thee,
Though what my loss I did not then divine:
But all is past—the sweet words, thou art mine,
Make bliss for thee and me.
Though what my loss I did not then divine:
But all is past—the sweet words, thou art mine,
Make bliss for thee and me.
How swells the light breeze o'er the blossoming lea,
Sure never winds swept past so sweet and low,
No lonely, unblest future waiteth now;
Dear Love for thee and me.
Sure never winds swept past so sweet and low,
No lonely, unblest future waiteth now;
Dear Love for thee and me.
Look upward o'er the glowing West, and see,
Surely the star of evening never shone
With such a holy radiance—oh, my own,
Heaven smiles on thee and me.
Surely the star of evening never shone
With such a holy radiance—oh, my own,
Heaven smiles on thee and me.
