To tell the trills of tiny birds
In sweetest tunes, in rapture words;
To catch the moonlight's halo fair,
And soften even sunshine's glare.
In everything, as gold refined,
Thou speakest thoughts of higher mind:
To thee we ascribe the greatest power
To beautify the living hour,
Because He speaketh through thy words,
And plays on strings of silver chords,
To idealize the soul of man,
And bid him thus annul the ban;
To forge the fetters and go free
As thou, oh, White-winged Poesy.
In sweetest tunes, in rapture words;
To catch the moonlight's halo fair,
And soften even sunshine's glare.
In everything, as gold refined,
Thou speakest thoughts of higher mind:
To thee we ascribe the greatest power
To beautify the living hour,
Because He speaketh through thy words,
And plays on strings of silver chords,
To idealize the soul of man,
And bid him thus annul the ban;
To forge the fetters and go free
As thou, oh, White-winged Poesy.
Heart to Heart.
Some day we shall stand, you and I,
In fairer lands I trow,
And clasping hands 'neath bluer sky,
We then shall surely know
Why the gulf between us yawned so wide
Why 'twas given us here to part.
And as the golden gate swings soft aside,
Oh, shall we not stand heart to heart?
In fairer lands I trow,
And clasping hands 'neath bluer sky,
We then shall surely know
Why the gulf between us yawned so wide
Why 'twas given us here to part.
And as the golden gate swings soft aside,
Oh, shall we not stand heart to heart?
—7—
