244
SUMMER ON THE LAKES.
| Ere such an orb can ascertain its sphere, |
| The ordeal must be various and severe; |
| My prayers attend thee, though the feet may fly, |
| I hear thy music in the silent sky. |
I should like, however, to hear some notes of
earthly music to-night. By the faint moonshine I
can hardly see the banks; how they look I have no
guess, except that there are trees, and, now and
then, a light lets me know there are homes with
their various interests. I should like to hear some
strains of the flute from beneath those trees, just to
break the sound of the rapids.
| When no gentle eyebeam charms; |
| No fond hope the bosom warms; |
| Of thinking the lone mind is tired — |
| Nought seems bright to be desired; |
| Music, be thy sails unfurled, |
| Bear me to thy better world; |
| O'er a cold and weltering sea, |
| Blow thy breezes warm and free; |
| By sad sighs they ne'er were chilled, |
| By sceptic spell were never stilled; |
| Take me to that far-offshore, |
| Where lovers meet to part no more; |
| There doubt, and fear and sin are o'er, |
| The star of love shall set no more. |
With the first light of dawn I was up and out,
and then was glad I had not seen all the night
before; it came upon me with such power in
