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WITHOUT PICTURES.
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to the balcony, and the kiss of love went like a cherub’s thought from earth, the round Moon stood in the transparent atmosphere, half concealed amid the dark cypresses. She saw the hero on St. Helena, when from his solitary rock he looked out over the ocean of the world, whilst deep thoughts were at work in his breast. Yes, what could not the Moon relate! The life of the world is a history for her. This evening I see thee not, old friend! I can paint no picture in remembrance of thy visit!—and as I dreamingly looked up into the clouds, light shone forth; it was a moonbeam, but it is gone again; dark clouds float past; but that ray was a salutation, a friendly evening salutation from the Moon.
