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Hail to the gentle hearts that deem thy boons
“Oh! what is not a dream by day
To one whose eyes are cast
“OH! what is not a dream by day,"
When, mem'ry-borne, we roam afar, And watch again the ling’ring ray
Of evening's bright and holy star?
We turn and fondly watch it glow
O’er distant scenes where once we stray'd, On some loved tree its radiance throw,
Beneath whose boughs, a child, we play'd; We see it light the quiet lake
Where oft we launch'd a fragile barque, And through the ruin'd tower break
Piercing each nook so lone and dark;
We see our early home again
Its hilly grounds with flowers gay, Its quiet comfort, calm and plain,
Lie sleeping 'neath sweet Hesper's ray:
Our early playmates, too, are there,
faces bent on sport; Their laughter rings upon the air,
Till fancy bath its music caught
And echoes back the merry peal,
Right jocund, from the care-worn breast That once could Mirth's dominion feel,
Though now with settled grief oppress'd :
Oh, what is not a dream like this,
In some lone hour, when Sorrow's sway
Would rob us of all taste of bliss
And make us dread the close of day?
Why, such a dream may bring us back
The freshness of youth's hope and love, And lend us wings again to track
A passage to the realms above !
In her unclaiming gentleness her empire lies
Unlimited, and fairer than the sway of kings! See her pure spirit burst its chain and rise,
Triumphantly outspread its graceful wings Aloof; yet, bending down, like beaming light,
Dispensing influence sweet, and calm, and pure, She seems in Love's imperial robes bedight
For conquest arm’d, of victory secure !