MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet,
Oh! the last ray of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart!
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o’er the scene,
Her purest of chrystal and brightness of green:
’Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill;
Oh! no—it was something more exquisite still?
’Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear;
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Ovoca! how could I rest,
In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best,
Where the storms which we feel in this cold world shall cease,
And our hearts like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
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