EVENING SOLACE
The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence
sealed;--
The thoughts, the hopes,
the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken
if revealed.
And days may pass in gay
confusion,
And nights in rosy riot
fly,
While, lost in Fame's or
Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may
die.
But there are hours of lonely
musing,
Such as in evening silence
come,
When, soft as birds their
pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings
gather home.
Then in our souls there
seems to languish
A tender grief that is not
woe;
And thoughts that once wrung
groans of anguish
Now cause but some mild
tears to flow.
And feelings, once as strong
as passions,
Float softly back--a faded
dream;
Our own sharp griefs and
wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings
seem.
Oh! when the heart is freshly
bleeding,
How longs it for that time
to be,
When, through the mist of
years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie!
And it can dwell on moonlight
glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows
dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange
distress--
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened
room,
To solemn thoughts that
soar to heaven
Seeking a life and world
to come. |
