Poems (Eaton)/I'm Sitting in the Moonlight
I'M SITTING IN THE MOONLIGHT.
I'M sitting in the moonlight
That streams across the floor,
And calling back the early days
Which may return no more.
A merry childish group springs up
Before my mental eye,
Whose streaming curls and dancing eyes
Gleam 'neath the moonlit sky;
And well-remembered voices now
Their echoes round me fling,
Like strains of softest melody,
Most dear when vanishing.
And joyous shouts, and bounding feet,
And laughter clear and wild,
Are present in my memory
As when I was a child—
And my heart goes back with longing,
To those careless days of yore,
As I sit within the moonlight
That streams across the floor.
That streams across the floor,
And calling back the early days
Which may return no more.
A merry childish group springs up
Before my mental eye,
Whose streaming curls and dancing eyes
Gleam 'neath the moonlit sky;
And well-remembered voices now
Their echoes round me fling,
Like strains of softest melody,
Most dear when vanishing.
And joyous shouts, and bounding feet,
And laughter clear and wild,
Are present in my memory
As when I was a child—
And my heart goes back with longing,
To those careless days of yore,
As I sit within the moonlight
That streams across the floor.
I'm sitting in the moonlight
That streams across the floor,
And thinking of the flowers that strew
My later pathway o'er.
Oh deem not, that with early years
Life's beauty all hath passed;
The advancing sun sheds brighter beams
Than those his rising cast.
The swelling fruit or opening flower
Were but of little worth,
Bereft of ripening noonday warmth,
To bring their sweetness forth;
So happiness, that plant divine,
As still our years increase,
Is ripened by the gentle rays
That flow from inward peace;
While love, the gift conferred by God,
Which brings us nearest heaven,
In richest purest radiance
To years mature is given.
And I mourn no more for all the joys
Lost childhood might restore,
As I sit within the moonlight
That streams across the floor.
That streams across the floor,
And thinking of the flowers that strew
My later pathway o'er.
Oh deem not, that with early years
Life's beauty all hath passed;
The advancing sun sheds brighter beams
Than those his rising cast.
The swelling fruit or opening flower
Were but of little worth,
Bereft of ripening noonday warmth,
To bring their sweetness forth;
So happiness, that plant divine,
As still our years increase,
Is ripened by the gentle rays
That flow from inward peace;
While love, the gift conferred by God,
Which brings us nearest heaven,
In richest purest radiance
To years mature is given.
And I mourn no more for all the joys
Lost childhood might restore,
As I sit within the moonlight
That streams across the floor.
I'm sitting in the moonlight
That streams across the floor,
And dreaming of the dearly-loved
Upon the peaceful shore.
In that sweet haven of repose,
Does memory e'er turn back
To us, blind, groping wanderers
Upon life's darkened track?
And 'mid the joyous songs of praise,
That fill the heavenly dome,
Heed they the broken strains that rise
Within their earlier home?
Ah, well they loved us once, and through
The yearning love we feel,
Which time and death cannot efface,
We know they love us still;
And when our bark at last is launched
On that dark river's tide,
Their faithful hearts will welcome us,
Their loving arms will guide;
And sure the heavenly life itself
Will seem more deeply blest,
While greeting those we left in tears,
When entering into rest.
Oh happy thoughts! oh glorious dreams!
They haunt me evermore,
As I sit within the moonlight
That streams across the floor.
That streams across the floor,
And dreaming of the dearly-loved
Upon the peaceful shore.
In that sweet haven of repose,
Does memory e'er turn back
To us, blind, groping wanderers
Upon life's darkened track?
And 'mid the joyous songs of praise,
That fill the heavenly dome,
Heed they the broken strains that rise
Within their earlier home?
Ah, well they loved us once, and through
The yearning love we feel,
Which time and death cannot efface,
We know they love us still;
And when our bark at last is launched
On that dark river's tide,
Their faithful hearts will welcome us,
Their loving arms will guide;
And sure the heavenly life itself
Will seem more deeply blest,
While greeting those we left in tears,
When entering into rest.
Oh happy thoughts! oh glorious dreams!
They haunt me evermore,
As I sit within the moonlight
That streams across the floor.