And as thou wanderest on to meet the river
Oh, still in light and music mayst thou flow!
I never shall come back to thee again,
When once my sail is shadowed on the main,
Nor ever shall I hear thy laughing voice
As on their rippling way thy waves rejoice,
Nor ever see the dark green cedar throw
Its gloomy shade o’er the clear depths below,
Never, from stony rifts of granite gray
Sparkling like diamond rocks in the sun’s ray,
Shall I look down on thee, thou pleasant stream,
Beneath whose crystal folds the gold sands gleam;
Wherefore, farewell! but whensoe’er again
The wintry spell melts from the earth and air;
And the young Spring comes dancing through thy glen,
With fragrant, flowery breath, and sunny hair;
When through the snow the scarlet berries gleam,
Like jewels strewn upon thy banks, fair stream,
My spirit shall through many a summer’s day
Return, among thy peaceful woods to stray.
AN EVENING SONG.
Good night, love!
May Heaven’s brightest stars watch over thee!
Good angels spread their wings, and cover thee,
And through the night,
So dark and still,
Spirits of light
Charm thee from ill!
My heart is hovering round thy dwelling-place,
Good night, dear love! God bless thee with his grace!
Good night, love!
Soft lullabies the night-wind sing to thee!
And on its wings sweet odours bring to thee!
And in thy dreaming
May all things dear,
With gentle seeming,
Come smiling near!
My knees are bowed, my hands are clasped in prayer—
Good night, dear love! God keep thee in his care!
THE DEATH-SONG.
Mother, mother! my heart is wild,
Hold me upon your bosom dear,
Do not frown on your own poor child,
Death is darkly drawing near.
Mother, mother! the bitter shame
Eats into my very soul;
And longing love, like a wrapping flame,
Burns me away without control.
Mother, mother! upon my brow
The clammy death-sweats coldly rise;
How dim and strange your features grow
Through the hot mist that veils my eyes!
Mother, mother! sing me the song
They sing on sunny August eves,
The rustling barley-fields along,
Binding up the ripe, red sheaves.
Mother, mother! I do not hear
Your voice—but his,—oh, guard me well!
His breathing makes me faint with fear,
His clasping arms are round me still.