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Oh! brighter than the brightest star,
That glimmers through the haze of night, When the blue vault of heaven afar
Is studded o'er with silver light; And brighter than that brilliant sky, May be the glance of woman's eye.
Oh! lovely as the golden ray
Of sunshine sleeping on the glade, When morning brightens into day,
And in its radiance melts the shade; And lovelier than that gorgeous sun, May be the smile from woman won.
But beauty shines not, may not shine,
All earth-born charms shall fade in death,
She dwells but in the pious mind,
DISSENSION FROM CALUMNY.
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
They parted-ne'er to meet again!
The marks of that which once hath been.
Nay, tell me not of lordly halls!
My Minstrels are the trees,
The moss and the rock are my tapestried walls, Earth's sounds my symphonies.
There's music sweeter to my soul
In the weed by the wild wind fanned In the heave of the surge, than ever stole From mortal minstrel's hand.
There's mighty music in the roar
Of the oaks on the mountain's side, When the whirlwind bursts on their foreheads hoar, And the lightnings flash blue and wide.
There's mighty music in the swell
Of Winter's midnight waveWhen all above is the thunder peal, And all below is the grave.
There's music in the city's hum,
There's music in the mournful swing
There's music in the forest-stream,
As it plays through the deep ravine, Where never Summer's breath or beam Has pierced its woodland screen.
There's music in the thundering sweep
Of the mountain waterfall,
As its torrents struggle, and foam, and leap,
There's music in the dawning morn,
Ere the lark his pinion dries
'Tis the rush of the breeze through the dewy cornThrough the garden's perfumed dyes.
There's music on the twilight cloud,
As the clanging wild swans spring,
There's music in the depth of night,
And the stars flame out in their pomp of light,