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How pleasant, in another hour,
Our wand'ring there will be!
When the dim ships, like shadows, ride
Over the star-lit sea.
When sailing in the deep blue heav'n,
The moon, like a young bride,
Comes timid, as she fear'd to claim
Her empire o'er the tide.
Then, to return from the white cliffs,
Where winds and waters beat,
How shall we love the leaves and flowers
Of our own calm retreat!
We should be happy;— yet let all
Sweet dreams, like these, depart:
It matters not whate'er his lot,—
Love's home is in the heart.L. E. L.
