THE BEREAVED.
The moon within our casement beams, Our blue-eyed babe hath dropt to sleep, And I have left it to its dreams, Amid the shadows deep, To muse beside the silver tide, Whose waves are rippling at thy side.
It is a still and lovely spot, Where they have laid thee down to rest, The white rose and forget-me-not Bloom sweetly o'er thy breast,And birds, and streams with liquid lull Have made the stillness beautiful.
And softly through the forest-bars Light, lovely shapes, on glossy plumes,Float ever in, like winged stars, Amid the purpling glooms; Their sweet songs borne from tree to tree,Thrill the light leaves with melody.
Alas! the very path I trace, In happier hours, thy footsteps made; This spot was once thy resting-place, Within the silent shade; Thy white hand trained the fragrant bough That drops its blossoms o'er me now;
'T was here at eve we used to rove, 'T was here I breathed my whispered vows, And sealed them on thy lips, my love! Beneath the apple-boughs.Our hearts had melted into one,But Death undid what Love had done.
Alas! too deep a weight of thought Had filled thy heart in youth's sweet hour; It seemed with love and bliss o'erfraught, A fleeting passion-flower, Unfolding 'neath a southern sky To blossom soon, and soon to die.
Yet, in those calm and blooming bowers I seem to feel thy presence still,Thy breath seems floating o'er the flowers, Thy whisper on the hill; The clear, faint starlight, and the sea,Are whispering to my heart of thee.
No more thy smiles my heart rejoice, Yet still I start to meet thine eye, And call upon the low, sweet voice, That gives me no reply—And list within my silent door For the light feet, that come no more.