Nor ever see the dark green cedar throw
Its gloomy shade o'er the clear depths below,
Never, from stony rifts of granite gray,
Sparkling like diamond rocks in the sun's ray,
Shall I look down on thee, thou pleasant stream,
Beneath whose crystal folds the gold sands gleam;
Wherefore, farewell! but whensoe'er again
The wintry spell melts from the earth and air;
And the young Spring comes dancing thro' thy glen,
With fragrant, flowery breath, and sunny hair;
When thro' the snow the scarlet berries gleam,
Like jewels strewn upon thy banks, fair stream,
My spirit shall thro' many a summer's day
Return, among thy peaceful woods to stray.
BETTER trust all, and be deceived,
And weep that trust, and that deceiving;
Than doubt one heart, that if believed,
Had blessed one's life with true believing.
Oh, in this mocking world, too fast
The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth! Better be cheated to the last,
Than lose the blessed hope of truth.
May heaven's brightest stars watch over thee!
Good angels spread their wings, and cover thee
And thro' the night,
So dark and still,
Spirits of light
Charm thee from ill!
My heart is hovering round thy dwelling-place, Good night, dear love! God bless thee with his grace!
Soft lullabies the night-wind sing to thee!
And on its wings sweet odours bring to thee!
And in thy dreaming
May all things dear,
With gentle seeming,
Come smiling near!
My knees are bowed, my hands are clasped in
Good night, dear love! God keep thee in his care!
MOTHER, mother! my heart is wild,
Hold me upon your bosom dear,
Do not frown on your own poor child,
Death is darkly drawing near.
Mother, mother! the bitter shame
Eats into my very soul;
And longing love, like a wrapping flame,
Burns me awa without control.
Mother, mother! upon my brow
The clammy death-sweats coldly rise; How dim and strange your features grow Thro' the hot mist that veils my eyes.
Mother, mother! sing me the song
They sing on sunny August eves,
The rustling barley fields along,
Binding up the ripe, red sheaves.
Mother! mother! I do not hear
Your voice-but his-oh, guard me well!
His breathing makes me faint with fear,
His clasping arms are round me still.
Mother, mother! unbind my vest,
Upon my heart lies his first token:
Now lay me in my narrow nest,
Your withered blossom, crushed and broken.
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