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THIS WORLD OF OURS. 299 |
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THIS WORLD OF OUR-S.
0! there is something strangely, sweetly bright, In every dew-drop, and each ray of light,
Which sends a thrill Deep through the quick'ning pulses of the soul; And waves of wild delight, above control,
Overwhelm the will.
This deep and holy charm is in the sky, And in the zephyr passing calmly by,
Or wild winds free ; I see it resting on the turf and flowers:— ' Tell me, sad stranger! is this world of ours
As bright to thee ?
" Ah! there are beauties which my heart can
trace— Charms, which the hand of grief can ne'er efface
From earth or sky; But yet they waken in this breast of mine Less of the gushing joy which gladdens thine—
Perchance, a sigh!
" Sometimes a veil of darkness seems to rest, Perhaps a shadow from my own dark breast, On all things here ; |
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