SONG FROM "FANNY." BY F. G. HALLECK. YOUNG thoughts have music in them, love And happiness their theme; And music wanders in the wind That lulls a morning dream. There's music in the forest leaves, From violets of the spring, Has music in his song, and in The fluttering of his wing. SONG. There's music in the dash of waves, When the swift bark cleaves their foam; There's music heard upon her deck The mariner's song of home When moon and starbeams, smiling, meet, At midnight, on the sea; And there is music once a week In Scudder's balcony. But the music of young thoughts too soon Is faint, and dies away, And from our morning dreams we wake To curse the coming day. And childhood's frolic hours are brief, And oft, in after years, Their memory comes to chill the heart, To-day the forest leaves are green; They'll wither on the morrow, And the maiden's laugh be changed, ere long, Come with the winter snows, and ask Where are the forest-birds; The answer is a silent one, More eloquent than words. 51 The moonlight music of the waves In storms is heard no more, When the livid lightning mocks the wreck At midnight on the shore; And the mariner's song of home has ceased His corse is on the sea; And music ceases, when it rains, In Scudder's balcony. ODE. BY CHARLES SPRAGUE. WHEN from the sacred garden driven, An Angel left her place in heaven, And crossed the wanderer's sunless path. 'Twas Art! sweet Art! new radiance broke, Where her light foot flew o'er the ground, And thus with seraph voice she spoke: "The Curse a Blessing shall be found.” ; She led him through the trackless wild, The village grows, the city springs, He rends the oak-and bids it ride, To guard the shores its beauty graced; |