Woodland Reveries.
In this deep shady dell, Where the soft breezes swell, And beautiful wood-sprites by pearly streams wander-- Where the sweet perfume breathes, O'er angel twined wreaths, Luxuriantly blooming the mossy trees under-- Here, beneath the bright vine Whose leaves intertwine, I'm dreaming of thee, my lost Angeline!
Oh! I think of the time-- Of the warm spring time, When with thee I've wandered, and with thee I've dallied; E're my soul had once dreamed That the roses which seemed So fadeless, could leave thy warm cheek cold and pallid, Or thy dear form decline, From its radiance divine, To press the cold grave sod, my own Angeline!
While the pale starlight laves, With its shadowy waves, A brow, that with memory's anguish is throbbing; Each quivering leaf, Seems trembling with grief, That's borne on the zephyr's low sorrowful sobbing. For that dear form of thine, So oft pressed to mine, My angel-claimed lost one, my own Angeline!
As the stream leaps along, And I list to its song, It sounds like the surging of sorrow's dark river;
When o'er my young bride, Passed its dark rolling tide, And bore her away from my bosum forever; Yes; bore thee to shine In regions divine, Resplendently lovely, and pure, Angeline!
And there, as I gaze On its bright sparkling face, Where pearly white ripples are merrily gleaming, Reflecting each star That shines from afar, The face of my lost one seems tenderly beaming; Yes! there beside mine, Are thy features benign, By memory mirrored, my own Angeline!
As I gently recline, 'Neath the clustering vine, The veil from futurity's vista is lifted, And adown life's wild tide, I rapidly glide, And into eternity's ocean am drifted; And there, soul of mine In regions divine, I meet thee, to part nevermore, Angeline!
A Wreck! A Wreck! "Man the Life Boat."
The blackness of midnight hung over the ocean, And savagely, shrilly, the Storm Spirit screamed. Athwart the dark billows, which wild in commotion, Sublimely, yet awfully, heavenward streamed.