The Voice.
83
"Take off the withered buds that lie
Faded on memory's bier,
And lay fresh lilies on the pall,
Nor one regretful tear;
Faded on memory's bier,
And lay fresh lilies on the pall,
Nor one regretful tear;
"And bind fresh roses on thy brow,
With myrtle interleaved,
And amaranth and immortelle
In chaplet interweaved."
With myrtle interleaved,
And amaranth and immortelle
In chaplet interweaved."
And hear the voice, that thro' the pines
Is speaking still to me
In whispers thro' the quivering leaves,—
"My peace I give to thee."
Is speaking still to me
In whispers thro' the quivering leaves,—
"My peace I give to thee."
