182
lizzie.
As the morning ray rising thro mist-tears alone
Or the sound of a bell ringing soft in the sea,—
Or the sound of a bell ringing soft in the sea,—
Has suddenly thrill'd to a richness and fervor,
A passionate sweetness, untroubled and deep—
You would think in her heart had arisen to nerve her
An angel,—awaken'd from sorrow and sleep.
A passionate sweetness, untroubled and deep—
You would think in her heart had arisen to nerve her
An angel,—awaken'd from sorrow and sleep.
It is Love! it is Love! by the joy that is stealing
Like light o'er her forehead I know it is Love!—
He has touched with his wand the wild fountain of feeling,
He floats like a spirit that fountain above.
Like light o'er her forehead I know it is Love!—
He has touched with his wand the wild fountain of feeling,
He floats like a spirit that fountain above.
He has kindled his star-lamp—tho deathless—the pure—
Within—and her heart's hidden riches are shown;
His own seraph voice has breathed melody to her—
And hers has caught all its deep magic of tone.
Within—and her heart's hidden riches are shown;
His own seraph voice has breathed melody to her—
And hers has caught all its deep magic of tone.
Oh! still may that voice keep its sweetness and joy,
And still may that cheek wear its glow of delight,
And these dear eyes, unshadow'd by sorrow's alloy,
Still beam with the fondness that fills them to-night.
And still may that cheek wear its glow of delight,
And these dear eyes, unshadow'd by sorrow's alloy,
Still beam with the fondness that fills them to-night.
