Page:National Lyrics.pdf/62

46

When the night's whisper o'er thy harp-strings creeping, Or the sea-music on the sounding shore, Or breezy anthems thro' the forest sweeping, Shall move thy trembling spirit to adore;

Near thee, still near thee!—trust thy soul's deep dreaming! —Oh! love is not an earthly Rose to die! Ev'n when I soar where fiery stars are beaming, Thine image wanders with me thro' the sky.