AN EVENING IN JULY.
BRIGHT stream! on your soft banks to-night,
Moonbeams fall on leaf and bower,—
Glimmering stars, with holy light,
Melt in your bosom this Eden hour;
Fragrant lilies, so white and pure,
Springing from depths unseen below,—
These quiet scenes my soul allure
To realms whence all these blessings flow.
Moonbeams fall on leaf and bower,—
Glimmering stars, with holy light,
Melt in your bosom this Eden hour;
Fragrant lilies, so white and pure,
Springing from depths unseen below,—
These quiet scenes my soul allure
To realms whence all these blessings flow.
The fire-flies flitting through the air,
Like golden butterflies from heaven,—
Sky, stream, and earth new glories wear,
This beautiful midsummer even.
The quivering of the aspen-tree,
In clouds of silvery shadow drest,—
Gushing thoughts are struggling to be free,
And flit away to dream-lands of the blest.
Like golden butterflies from heaven,—
Sky, stream, and earth new glories wear,
This beautiful midsummer even.
The quivering of the aspen-tree,
In clouds of silvery shadow drest,—
Gushing thoughts are struggling to be free,
And flit away to dream-lands of the blest.
