PILGRIM'S SONG, &c.
211
No bowery roof is mine,
No hearth of love and rest,
Yet guide me to my shrine,
O soft star of the west!
There, there, my home shall be,
Heaven's dew shall cool my breast,
When prayer and tear gush free,
—O soft star of the west!
O soft star of the west,
Gleaming far!
Thou'rt guiding all things home,
Gentle star!
Shine from thy rosy heaven,
Pour joy on earth and sea!
Shine on, tho' no sweet eyes
Look forth to watch for me!
