IT is the hush of night; all sounds of life,
That jarr'd my sick ear through the live-long day,
The scoffer's heartless laugh, the voice of strife,
The murmur of dull talk are past away;
My bosom's secret, solitary woes
In the calm lap of silence find repose.
The warm soft arms of sleep are round the world; The stars are walking on their mute career;
O'er town and waste one boundless gloom is furl'd; Half sound, half silence, to the listening ear There comes a tingling murmur, which doth seem The everlasting flow of time's mysterious stream.
The sweet and solemn influence of the hour
Steals o'er me, like the coming on of rest;
My soul lies hush'd beneath the gentle power;
The shapes of fear and anguish, that infest
My thoughts by day, seem soften'd now and chang`d,
Like the relenting looks of one erewhile estrang'd.
Rest, troubled spirit, rest! confide in Him,
Whose eye
is on thee thro' thy watch of pain;
When earthly comfort waxeth cold and dim,
Trust thou in that which doth for aye remain.
Thy heart-deep sighs to truth and freedom given,
Can find no answer here; but they are heard in Heaven.
THOU Comest once again, beloved May!
Thou comest, but my heart is sick with care,
And haunting wrong and comfortless despair,
And fretting griefs that will not pass away :
Heartless I sit, and hopeless, day by day;
Wasting in thankless and inglorious toil,
Uncheer'd by living voice or friendly smile.
Oh could thy young and innocent smiles allay
The grief that burns within me! but too deep
The shaft of woe hath pierc'd; and therefore thou,
With all thy odours, sights, and harmonies,
Fresh airs, and sunny fields, and skies that weep
Glad tears, and boundless music, are but now
As the fair chamber where some sick man lies.
I AM all alone by my silent hearth,
No smile of love, and no voice of mirth;
I am all alone, and my heart is sore
With thinking of days that are past and o'er.
I sit and watch the stately trees,
As they roll and murmur on the breeze,
Or follow the clouds as they fleet and play,
But my heart-my heart is far away.
My thoughts are wandering fast and wide,
Without an aim, and without a guide.
OH! come to me now, for my sorrows are past,
And the cloud on my heart is dissolv'd at last;
Spirit of Poesy, come from above,
Come, on the wings of nature and love!
Come, while the yellow light streams thro' the
And the air is fresh with the morning rain,
And the wind is up with its sweet wild voice,
Like a song of sorrow that bids us rejoice.
Come 'mid fancies gathering fast
'Mid thoughts of the present, and thoughts of the past ;
Oh! come to me now! 'tis thy chosen hour,
And the spirits of evil no longer have power!
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