Awaits love’s hour of dream-like bliss—
When nest-ward hie both bird and bee,
My fondest thought is still for thee!
Again at midnight’s solemn hour,
When eyes are closed and lips are still,
And Silence, like a spirit’s form,
Rests sweetly on each vale and hill,
When Love and Grief sit side by side
Around some sinking sufferer’s bed,
Or Crime in shadow seeks to hide