Stars come forth when Night her shroud
Draws as Daylight fainteth;
Only on the tearful cloud
God his rainbow painteth.
Weep not, then, o'er poet's wrong,
Mourn not his mischances;
Sorrow is the source of song
And of gentle fancies.
THE LAND FOR ME.
I 've been upon the moonlit deep
When the wind had died away,
And like an Ocean-god asleep
The bark majestic lay;
But lovelier is the varied scene,
The hill, the lake, the tree,
When bathed in light of Midnight's Queen;
The land! the land! for me.
The glancing waves I 've glided o'er
When gently blew the breeze;
But sweeter was the distant shore,
The zephyr 'mong the trees.
The murmur of the mountain rill,
The blossoms waving free,
The song of birds on every hill;
The land! the land! for me.
The billows I have been among
When they roll'd in mountains dark,
And Night her blackest curtain hung
Around our heaving bark;
But give me, when the storm is fierce,
My home and fireside glee,
Where winds may howl, but dare not pierce;
The land! the land! for me.
And when around the lightning flash'd
I 've been upon the deep,
And to the gulf beneath I 've dash'd
Adown the liquid steep;
But now that I am safe on shore,
There let me ever be;
The sea let others wander o'er;
The land! the land! for me.