TO LUCY DURING HER ABSENCE.
The dew is on the blossoms, and the young moon on the sea,
It is the twilight hour—the hour for you and me—
The time when memory wanders across life's dreamy track,
When the past floats up before us, and the lost come stealing back;
And while along the still shore my lonely footsteps rove,
With the deep blue far beneath me, and the pale blue up above,
And with their trembling footsteps the faint stars tread the sea,
I think upon you, Lucy—do you ever think of me?
It is the twilight hour—the hour for you and me—
The time when memory wanders across life's dreamy track,
When the past floats up before us, and the lost come stealing back;
And while along the still shore my lonely footsteps rove,
With the deep blue far beneath me, and the pale blue up above,
And with their trembling footsteps the faint stars tread the sea,
I think upon you, Lucy—do you ever think of me?
Lucy! in this sweet hour, when the stars and waves have met,
And the full heart most remembers all it wishes to forget,
When the deep hush of the twilight seems such a holy time,
That to smile were almost sinful, and to whisper were a crime,
'T is sweet along these dim paths with lonely steps to glide,
For the moon is in the far blue, and the breeze is at my side;
But yet my heart is heavy, and my voice hath lost its glee,
I am sighing for you, Lucy—do you ever sigh for me?
And the full heart most remembers all it wishes to forget,
When the deep hush of the twilight seems such a holy time,
That to smile were almost sinful, and to whisper were a crime,
'T is sweet along these dim paths with lonely steps to glide,
For the moon is in the far blue, and the breeze is at my side;
But yet my heart is heavy, and my voice hath lost its glee,
I am sighing for you, Lucy—do you ever sigh for me?
