TO A FRIEND.
THE year is fading; now, Beloved, to thee
A simple strain in sadness I would sing;
Though in each line a discord there should be,
Yet to thine heart it may a pleasure bring;
For tender thoughts must leave their soft impress,
While we sit thinking of the loved, the dear;
I would alone to-night such words express,
However rough, discordant they appear.
A simple strain in sadness I would sing;
Though in each line a discord there should be,
Yet to thine heart it may a pleasure bring;
For tender thoughts must leave their soft impress,
While we sit thinking of the loved, the dear;
I would alone to-night such words express,
However rough, discordant they appear.
Clouds have arisen o'er our blessed land
Since first we met—'tis scarce twelve months ago;
Their shadows rest on many a household band,
And tears, alas! how many tears now flow
For those departed in this odious war;
The good, the brave—but why should I recall?
Its blight is felt throughout the world afar,
But soon from heaven may the sunlight fall.
Since first we met—'tis scarce twelve months ago;
Their shadows rest on many a household band,
And tears, alas! how many tears now flow
For those departed in this odious war;
The good, the brave—but why should I recall?
Its blight is felt throughout the world afar,
But soon from heaven may the sunlight fall.
I cannot tell thee all I wish 'to say,
Or paint in words the pictures as they glow;
My pen will not my trembling heart obey,
But dost thou not its deepest meaning know?
Or paint in words the pictures as they glow;
My pen will not my trembling heart obey,
But dost thou not its deepest meaning know?
