Under the moon they walked again--
The setting the moon--the waning moon.
And scarcely a word was said by the twain.
(Ah moon, you set too soon.)
For love, in one o' the hearts, like the rim
Of the waning moon, grew faint, and dim.
Under the skies a maiden stood--
The cold night skies--the moonless skies:
She heard the owl in the lonely wood,
And she heard her own deep sighs.
"Heart and skies devoid of light;
Oh God!" she cried, "what a dreary night!"
Under the skies is a narrow mound--
The watchful skies--the starry skies.
And the rays of the moon, so full and round,
Shine down, where the maiden lies.
And they shine on the fickle lover, who
Walks with another, and woos anew.
[SINGERS ]
The sweetest songs that were ever sung,
And those that please the best,
Through sorrow, and grief, and tears were wrung
From some o'er-burdened breast.
Though the words breathe only of mirth, and bloom,
And the strains are the gladdest and lightest,
Remember that after a night of gloom,
The rays of the sun are brightest.
The rain must fall, ere the spring-time grass
Grows tender, and green, and sweet.
Through the pangs of travail, a soul must pass,
Ere a song is born complete.
After a winter of storm, and snow,
Blossom the buds in our bowers:
After a season of tears and woe,
Blossom the poet's flowers.
There are few who give the poet a thought,
When they read the pleasing strain.
There are few who know that a poem is wrought
Through sorrow, and tears, and pain.
The merriest song, and the blithest lay,
And those that are sweetest and gladdest,
Are woven in gloomy and cheerless days,
When the poet's heart is the saddest.
[TAKE MY HAND]
I am walking in the darkness:
All around me is the night.
I am groping in the shadows,
And I cannot see the light.
Every sunbeam has departed;
There is gloom throughout the land.
I am fainting by the wayside--
Heavenly Father, take my hand.
Oh, the paths are rough and thorny,
That my weary feet have trod.
I am bleeding--I am dying,
Take me by the hand, O God!
Let my gloomy way be lighted,
By the glory of Thy face!
And thy broad and mighty bosom,
Let it be my resting place.