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And float to those far realms so oft,
And never sigh to flutter through?
And never sigh to flutter through?
And yet this spot, so still, so lone,
Seems formed to suit my mournful mood,
The far blue heavens seem all my own,
And all this lovely solitude!
A voice seems whispering on the hill
Soft as my own—and on the sea
A living spirit seems to thrill
And throb with mine deliciously!
Seems formed to suit my mournful mood,
The far blue heavens seem all my own,
And all this lovely solitude!
A voice seems whispering on the hill
Soft as my own—and on the sea
A living spirit seems to thrill
And throb with mine deliciously!
Yet, though my thoughts from care seem freed.
And a soft joy pervades my breast,
That makes me almost feel indeed
That hearts on earth are sometimes blest!
There is a spell in those hushed skies—
A something felt in this lone spot,
That makes my very soul arise
With longings for—it knows not what!
And a soft joy pervades my breast,
That makes me almost feel indeed
That hearts on earth are sometimes blest!
There is a spell in those hushed skies—
A something felt in this lone spot,
That makes my very soul arise
With longings for—it knows not what!
Beneath such skies I sometimes doubt
My heart can e'er have dreamed of sin—
The world seems all so calm without,
And all my thoughts so pure within!
Such dreams play o'er my folded lid!
Such heavenly visions greet my view!
I almost seem to glide amid
The angel-bands, an angel too!
My heart can e'er have dreamed of sin—
The world seems all so calm without,
And all my thoughts so pure within!
Such dreams play o'er my folded lid!
Such heavenly visions greet my view!
I almost seem to glide amid
The angel-bands, an angel too!
