73
How soothing to the bosom torn with grief!
Which shuns the tumults of the garish day.
Which shuns the tumults of the garish day.
The gentle rivulet meanders by,
Scarce do the winds disturb its glassy breast;
The zephyrs softly through the branches sigh,
As though they fear'd to break creation's rest.
Scarce do the winds disturb its glassy breast;
The zephyrs softly through the branches sigh,
As though they fear'd to break creation's rest.
But my sad breast no peaceful calm can know,
Depriv'd of all that made these scenes most dear;
A prey to grief and unavailing woe,
I heave the bitter sigh, and shed the tear.
Depriv'd of all that made these scenes most dear;
A prey to grief and unavailing woe,
I heave the bitter sigh, and shed the tear.
For on such nights, when blest with those I lov'd,
Each passing hour to fond affection giv'n,
Through yonder grove in converse sweet we rov'd;
But now, alas! they're gone from me to heav'n.
Each passing hour to fond affection giv'n,
Through yonder grove in converse sweet we rov'd;
But now, alas! they're gone from me to heav'n.
