The shadows are whispering through the leaves,
In the beautiful twilight hour,
O’er the sparkling fountains murmuring seas,
In the wake of each lovely flow’r,
So serenely still, and unearthly fair,
Just like the moonbeams gentle ray,
Now they glide away through the forest deep
To the mansion house old and grey.
Yes, on to the mansion house far above,
The shadows, fleeting souls of light,
On love’s bright golden wings go whispering,
Of vice and greed, of right and might
Of the battles fought, the victories won.
The good and the ill that men do,
Then back through the twilight they softly steal
Whispering hope to me and you.
THE THISTLE AND THE SHAMROCK.
The thistle soft and downy
Gently swaying to and fro,
Bends low its head to Scotland
With every breeze that blow.
The little shamrock nestles
Within its emerald bed,
And breathes a pray’r to heaven
To renew old glories fled.
THE WORLD’S CATHEDRAL.
In the world’s Cathedral with the vast throng,
See the lined and masked faces floating by,
Could we know what emotions stirred their souls,
Unconquerable passions therein lie,
Smitten by swords of flame by unkind deeds,
Or may be fate’s unerring obloquy.
We might wonder at the myst’ry of all,
The august grandeur or heart rending woe,
Could we but gaze down deep into the hearts
Of the multitude passing to and fro,
Passing along like a dream or vision
From whence do they come? Oh where do they go?