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192 FOREST MELODIES.
At balmy morn, and at eventide, Conversing of days to come—
Or, could I sit on thy knee,
And lean my head on thy faithful breast, And hear that voice which has music for me,
I should be happy—be blest. •
Not long hast thou been away,
Yet I've counted the days, and thought them long; There has been less melody far for me,
In the zephyr and sweet bird's song.
Less beauty too in the sky, . ,
And the blooming flowers since thou hast been gone,—
I shall watch for thee with an anxious eye, My best, my dearest one.
I THINK OF HEAVEN.
When morn appears, her pearly gates unclosing, Radiant with beauty in the orient sky,
And nature, fresh and fair from long reposing, > Looks brightly up while lingering shadows fly;
I think of Heaven—that clime of the immortal, Whose ceaseless sunlight shines upon the blest,