Imágenes de páginas


WHAT hath life to charm us? Flowers

Whose sweet lips have ever sung

Carols from the fields and bowers,

In perfume's universal tongue.

Choral fairies bright and merry!

Hark! I hear your silver bells,

Chiming from the tufted dells

A May-day welcome-hey down derry!

Hark again! those jocund calls

Are Echo's voice, who loves to mock

The laughter of the waterfalls
That leap for joy from rock to rock.

And now the winds their organ ply,

Tuned to the music of the birds,

And rustling leaves and lowing herds,

Oh! what a thrilling harmony!

Joys there are of wider scope,

Our social and domestic ties,

Faith, love, charity, and hope,

With all their mingled ecstacies.

And mental bliss that never cloys,

But charms the head and thrills the heart;

Life! how grand a boon thou art !

Life! how sumless are thy joys!


Youth, beauty, love, delight,

All blessings bright and dear,

Like shooting stars by night,

Flash, fall, and disappear.

Let Cynics doubt their worth,

Because they're born to die,

The wiser sons of earth

Will snatch them ere they fly.

Tho' mingled with alloy,

We throw not gold away;

Then why reject the joy

That’s blended with decay?


PEACE to the tenants of the tomb

Whom oft we met in hall and bower,

Peace to the buried friends with whom

We shared the charm of music's hour;

Tho' dead, they are not mute, for still

Does memory wake some favour'd strain

That makes our yearning bosoms thrill

As if they lived and sang again.

Health to the friends we still possess;

Oh! long and often may we meet,

Our yet remaining years to bless

With Music's pleasures pure and sweet:

And praises to the power divine

That gave to man the precious boon,

Which makes life's social evening shine

As brightly as its morn and noon.



The thoughtful reader here may see
A little world's epitome

In turning each successive folio;

Names, drawings, music, poems, prose,

From kindred and from friends compose

This Album's multifarious olio.

Its owner, from her circle wide

Of friends, may here survey with pride

A cherish'd tributary Cento;

And when they're absent,--alter'd-dead

Each contribution will be read

With double zest as a memento.

« AnteriorContinuar »