WHEN SOFT STARS.
When soft stars are peeping Through the pure azure sky And southern gales sweeping Their warm breathings by, Like sweet music pealing Far o'er the blue sea There comes o'er me stealing Sweet memories of thee.
The bright rose when faded Flings forth o'er its tomb Its velvet leaves laded With silent perfume: Thus round me will hover In grief, or in glee, Till Life's dream be over, Sweet memories of thee.
As a sweet lute, that lingers In silence alone, Unswept by light finger, Scarce murmurs a tone, My young heart resembled That lute light and free, Till o'er its chords trembled Those memories of thee.