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And there at noon-tide, mid the trembling glances
Of the sweet starry jasmine gleaming out,
Is heard a young boy's shout,
Clear as the singing of a stream, that dances
Unto the breeze in all its boundless glee—
As clear, but O! more free.
Of the sweet starry jasmine gleaming out,
Is heard a young boy's shout,
Clear as the singing of a stream, that dances
Unto the breeze in all its boundless glee—
As clear, but O! more free.
And near his side a fairy creature lingers,
His little sister with her moss-rose cheek,
And eye so softly meek,
Parting the clustering vines with dimpled fingers,
And seizing from their long and wiry stems,
Their pale and quivering gems.
His little sister with her moss-rose cheek,
And eye so softly meek,
Parting the clustering vines with dimpled fingers,
And seizing from their long and wiry stems,
Their pale and quivering gems.
And there at eve, beneath the starlight gleamings.
Sits their young mother in soft pensive grace.
With sweetly smiling face,
Hushing her babe unto its heavenly dreamings,
And, with bent listening ear and graceful head,
Waiting her husband's tread.
Sits their young mother in soft pensive grace.
With sweetly smiling face,
Hushing her babe unto its heavenly dreamings,
And, with bent listening ear and graceful head,
Waiting her husband's tread.
And, when his step his heard among the flowers,
Sweet lips are wreathed in smiles, and ready feet
Fly forth his own to meet;
And the calm stillness of the twilight hours
Is broken by soft whispered words of love,
Stirring the air above.
Sweet lips are wreathed in smiles, and ready feet
Fly forth his own to meet;
And the calm stillness of the twilight hours
Is broken by soft whispered words of love,
Stirring the air above.
