BY M. S. LOVETT.
Air—"Oh! meet me by moonlight alone."
| I met thee by moonlight alone, The blue sky was cloudless above; And dew-gems around us were thrown, To gladden our meeting of love. I met thee by moonlight alone, My heart trusting wholly to thee: Was it prudent? Alas! I will own That I asked not, for thou wast with me. How buoyant my heart, and how sweet The zephyrs that waved through my hair! Low murmured the stream at my feet, Its tale to the summer-night air. But ah! did the sky cease to smile? The Moon—were her silver rays gone? Did each beauty but tarry the while We met—love, by moonlight alone? Oh no, for the sky is still bright, The dew-drops still nightly have shone: On me fell the darkness and blight: I met thee by moonlight alone! And the pale Moon while wand'ring above, Oft hears its sad votaries own, That too often the Altar of Love Is lighted by moonlight alone. |
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
LETTERS FROM A SISTER.
LETTER TWENTY-FIRST.
Places of Protestant Worship in Paris—History of Mr. Lewis Way an English Divine.
PARIS, ——.