69
I look above and strive to trace
Their dwellings in the stars.
Their dwellings in the stars.
The birds of summer hours—
They bring a gush of glee
To the child among the dewy flowers,
To the sailor on the sea.
We hear their thrilling voices
In their swift and airy flight,
And the inmost heart rejoices
With a calm and pure delight.
They bring a gush of glee
To the child among the dewy flowers,
To the sailor on the sea.
We hear their thrilling voices
In their swift and airy flight,
And the inmost heart rejoices
With a calm and pure delight.
In the stillness of the starlight hours,
When I am with the dead,
O! may they flutter mid the flowers,
That blossom o'er my head,
And pour their songs of gladness forth
In one melodious strain,
O'er lips, whose broken melody
Shall never sing again.
When I am with the dead,
O! may they flutter mid the flowers,
That blossom o'er my head,
And pour their songs of gladness forth
In one melodious strain,
O'er lips, whose broken melody
Shall never sing again.
