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THAT SILENT MOON.
Dispersed along the world's wide way,
When friends are far, and fond ones rove, How powerful she to wake the thought,
And start the tear for those we love ! Who watch, with us, at night's pale noon, And gaze upon that silent moon.
How powerful, too, to hearts that mourn,
The magic of that moonlight sky, To bring again the vanished scenes,
The happy eves of days gone by; Again to bring, 'mid bursting tears, The loved, the lost of other years.
And oft she looks, that silent moon,
On lonely eyes that wake to weep, In dungeon dark, or sacred cell,
Or couch, whence pain has banished sleep: 0, softly beams that gentle eye, On those who mourn, and those who die.
But beam on whomsoe'er she will,
And fall where'er her splendour may, There's pureness in her chastened light,
There's comfort in her tranquil ray: What power is hers to soothe the heartWhat power the trembing tear to start!
The dewy morn let others love,
Or bask them in the noontide ray; There's not an hour but has its charm,
From dawning light to dying day :But oh! be mine a fairer boonThat silent moon, that silent moon!
BY G MELLEN.
But still the dingle's hollow throat,
1. O, wild, enchanting horn! Whose music, up the deep and dewy air, Swells to the clouds, and calls on Echo there, 'Till a new melody is born!
Barks at the melancholy moon!
IV. Hark! how it sweeps away, Soaring and dying on the silent sky, As if some sprite of sound went wandering by,
With lone halloo and roundelay.
V. Swell, swell in glory out ! Thy tones come pouring on my leaping heart, And my stirred spirit hears thee with a start, As boyhood's old remembered shout!
VI. O, have ye heard that peal, From sleeping city's moon-bathed battlements, Or from the guarded field and warrior tents,
Like some near breath around ye steai :
Where wings and tempests never soar!
On Midnight's fathomless profound !
'TIS A LOWLY GRAVE.
BY W. G. SIMM S.
”T is a lowly grave but it suits her best,
'Tis a shady dell where they laid her form,
A trickling stream, as it winds below,
It is sweet to think, that when life is o’er,