"Among the lambs clothed in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight;
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn,
O, when shall I again return?"
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams,
Have wander'd all night in the land of dreams,
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.
"Father, O father! what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The land of dreams is better far
Above the light of the morning-star."
MARY.
SWEET Mary, the first time she ever was there,
Came into the ball-room among the fair,
The young men and maidens around her throng,
And these are the words upon every tongue:—
"An Angel is here from the heavenly climes,
Or again does return the golden times;
Her eyes outshine every brilliant ray;
She opens her lips—'tis the month of May.
