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In thy home beyond the seas!"
But he only heard the gentle sigh
Of the summer breeze,
So softly passing by
The acacia trees.
And vainly, too, the other, looking
Asked in his heart of hearts, "Where is she,
Heeds not grieving sob or wail—
But silent still was the ancient forest,
He only heard the wailing sound
The acacia trees!
CAN scarcely hear," she murmured, "For my heart beats loud and fast, But surely, in the far, far distance, I can hear a sound at last." "It is only the reapers singing,
As they carry home their sheaves;
"Listen! there are voices talking."
Yet, her voice grew faint and trembling,
"It is only the children playing
And they laugh that their eyes are dazzled
Fainter grew her voice, and weaker,
As with anxious eyes she cried, "Down the avenue of chestnuts,
I can hear a horseman ride."
"It was only the deer that were feeding
They were startled, and fled to the thicket
Now the night arose in silence,
There was only a sound of weeping
From watchers around a bed,
Peace to the quiet Dead!
HEN the bright stars came out last night,
I had a vision of delight—
A dream of by-gone hours.
Those hours that came and fled so fast
Of pleasure or of pain,
As phantoms rose from out the past
Before my eyes again.
With beating heart did I behold
Lit with the radiant light of old,
And, smiling, crowned with flowers.
And some were hours of childish sorrow,
A mimicry of pain,
That through their tears looked for a morrow
They knew must smile again.
Those hours of hope that longed for life,
And ere the summons to the strife,
I knew the echo of their voice,
I knew the perfume of their flowers;
O stay, I cried-bright visions, stay,
But, smiling still, they passed away,
Like shadows of the morn.