ANON.
I
Sweetly the June-time twilights wane
Over the hills of fair Lorraine,
Sweetly the mellow moonbeams fall
O'er rose-wreathed cottage and ivied wall.
But never dawned a brighter eve,
Than the holy night of St. Genevieve.
And never moonlight fairer fell,
Over the banks of the blue Moselle.
Richly the silver splendor shines,
Spangles with sheen the clustered vines,
And rests, in benediction fair,
On midnight tresses and golden hair.
Golden hair and midnight tress,
Mingle in tender lovingness,
While the evening breezes breathe upon
Marie and Jean,—and their hearts are one!
"The spell of silence lifts at last,
Marie, the saint's sweet day is past!
"Her vesper chimes have died away,
Where shall we be on Christmas day?"
With answering throb heart thrilled to heart,
Hand met hand with sudden start.
For in each soul shone the blessed thought,
The vision fair of a little cot,
Nestled beneath the lilac spray,
Waiting the blissful bridal day!
Low bowed in tearful silence there,
Their hearts rose up in solemn prayer,
And still the mellow lustre fell
Over the banks of the blue Moselle.
And still the moonlight shone upon
Marie and Jean,—and their hearts were one!