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The rising moon has hid the stars ;
Lie on the landscape green,
And silver white the river gleams,
Had dropt her silver bow
On such a tranquil night as this,
When, sleeping in the grove,
Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
It comes, - the beautiful, the free,
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one.
It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep,
And kisses the closed eyes
O, weary hearts ! O, slumbering eyes !
Are fraught with fear and pain,
No one is so accursed by fate,
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds, — as if with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings ;
And whispers, in its song, “Where hast thou stayed so long !”
THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR.
TROM THE GERMAN OF PFIZER.
A youth, light-hearted and content,
I wander through the world ; Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent
And straight again is furled.
Yet oft I dream, that once a wife
Close in my heart was locked, And in the sweet repose of life
A blessed child I rocked.
I wake! Away that dream,
-away! Too long did it remain ! So long, that both by night and day
It ever comes again.
The end lies ever in my thought ;
To a grave so cold and deep The mother beautiful was brought ;
Then dropt the child asleep.
But now the dream is wholly o’er,
I bathe mine eyes and see ; And wander through the world once more,
A youth so light and free.
Two locks, -and they are wondrous fair, —
Left me that vision mild ;
The blond is from the child.