THE SPIRIT’S WHISPERINGS.
I roved one morn in a sunlit grove,
Where the mavis was singing his song of love,
Where the wild bee flew on her wing of light,
Flitting o’er moss-cup and blossom bright!
And Nature was blooming so freshly and fair,
Nought fading or dying was resting there;
Yet the light breeze sang, as it wafted by,
“Alas that the Lily and Rose should die!”
I sat by the side of a maiden bright,
Radiant with Beauty, and Hope’s soft light;
She sang a lay of our own loved isle,
And my heart beat proudly and high the while.
Fondly I gazed on that lofty brow—
“What can be lovelier—brighter now?”
Yet Echo replied to her lute’s soft lay,
“The sweetest and fairest must fade away!”
I wandered forth, ’neath the moon’s pale ray,
Where the dead in their last long slumbers lay;
Softly and coldly her pure beams shone
On the mouldering urn and the old grey stone;
And I sadly sigh’d, “Must the young and brave,
The loved and the honour’d, all share the grave?”
And a voice replied, in a hollow sigh,
“The bravest and fairest, all—all must die!”
I knew it was as the spirit said,—
That all we love on this earth must fade;
That gently they wither, and slowly decay,
Or are snatch’d in a moment—away, away!
And I said, in deep sorrow, “Alas that strife
Should breathe on this short—this uncertain life!
And, alas for those who, when Life hath fled,
Have Peace to ask of the silent Dead!”
Marion’s beautiful voice trembled with emotion, and her eyes were filled with tears as she approached her husband. He leaned his head thoughtfully on his hand.
Those Magic Words were thrilling in his heart.