A POET'S LOVE.
The stag leaps free in the forest's heart,
But thy step is lighter, my love, my bride!
Light as the quick-footed breezes that part
The plumy ferns on the mountain's side;
Swift as the zephyrs that come and pass
O'er the waveless lake, and the billowy grass.
I hear thy voice where the white wave gleams,
In the one-toned bells of the rippled streams,
In the silvery boughs of the aspen tree,
In the wind that stirreth the shadowy pine,
In the shell that moans for the distant sea,
Never was voice so sweet as thine!
But thy step is lighter, my love, my bride!
Light as the quick-footed breezes that part
The plumy ferns on the mountain's side;
Swift as the zephyrs that come and pass
O'er the waveless lake, and the billowy grass.
I hear thy voice where the white wave gleams,
In the one-toned bells of the rippled streams,
In the silvery boughs of the aspen tree,
In the wind that stirreth the shadowy pine,
In the shell that moans for the distant sea,
Never was voice so sweet as thine!
