Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 32 1832.pdf/7



on, rejoice, make music, Bright living stream, set free! The troubled haunts of care and strife Were not for thee!

The woodland is thy bounty, Thou art all its own again; The wild birds are thy kindred race, That fear no chain!

Flow on, rejoice, make music Unto the glistening leaves! Thou, the beloved of balmy winds And golden eves.

Once more the holy starlight Sleeps calm upon thy breast, Whose brightness bears no token more Of man's unrest.

Flow, and let free-born music Flow with thy wavy line, While the stock-dove's lingering, loving voice Comes blent with thine.

And the green reeds quivering o'er thee, Strings of the forest lyre, All fill'd with answering spirit-sounds, In joy respire.

Yet, midst thy song of gladness, Oh! keep one pitying tone For gentle hearts, that bear to thee Their sadness lone.

One sound, of all the deepest, To bring, like healing dew, A sense that Nature ne'er forsakes The meek and true.

There, there roll on, make music, Thou stream, thou glad and free! The shadows of all glorious flowers Be set in thee!