WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE
BY J. R. THOMPSON.
When from thy side, love,
In silence and gloom,
Half broken-hearted
Fate tore me away,
All humbled in pride, love,
I thought in my doom,
That Hope had departed
For ever and aye!
But Fate may not banish
From memory's store,
That blissful communion
Of years that are flown,
Nor make yet to vanish
The lustre which o'er
Our fond thoughts of union,
So tenderly shone.
And still o'er the ocean
My fancy takes flight,
Where oft I see gleaming
Thy figure afar;
And I think with emotion,
That sometimes at night,
We watch the same beaming
And tremulous star.
The sunsets so golden.
That stream round me here,
But call up thy shadow
The landscape between:
And when in the olden
Dim season so dear,
It tripped o'er the meadow
With step of a queen.
As the light of the moon, love,
Like snow softly falls,
And rests on the mountain,
And silvers the sea,
That midnight in June, love,
My mem'ry recalls,
When up to the fountain
I clambered with thee.
How sweetly the river
Reflected the ray
Of moon through the willows
Or sun o'er the hill:
Does the moonbeam there quiver,
The sunset there play,
Upon its gay billows
As splendidly still?
My spirit is weary—
An exile I grieve,
When morn's early voices
A glad song proclaim,
And the faint Miserere
Of nature at eve,
To me but rejoices
To murmer thy name.
Yet Hope, reappearing,
A vision unfolds,
Of rapture together
In joy's happy reign,
When love all endearing
The full eye beholds,
We'll walk o'er the heather
At sunset again.
Richmond, Va.