(Within the heart, for future use enshrined,)
Treasures of thought, from earthly dross refined—
’Twas then she wander’d forth from human sight,
In nature’s solitude sweet peace to find,
Or far on high to wing her mental flight;
And oft with plaintive song she charm’d the ear of night.
XXX.
Night is the time for music—when the sounds
Of man’s untuneful instruments are still;
When hush’d is all the noise that so confounds