The golden treasury of American songs and lyrics . le meeting. But since Delight cant tempt the wight, Nor fond Regret delay Love himself can hold the elf, Nor sober Friendship stay him. SPARKLING AND BRIGHT. Well drink to-night, with hearts as light, To loves as gay and fleetingAs bubbles that swim on the beakers brim, And break on the lips while meeting. C. F. HOFFMANo 33 AMERICAN SONGS AND LYRICS. €o dne in ^axcibm. npHOU wast all that to me, love,For which my soul did pine:A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrineAll wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers. And all the
The golden treasury of American songs and lyrics . le meeting. But since Delight cant tempt the wight, Nor fond Regret delay Love himself can hold the elf, Nor sober Friendship stay him. SPARKLING AND BRIGHT. Well drink to-night, with hearts as light, To loves as gay and fleetingAs bubbles that swim on the beakers brim, And break on the lips while meeting. C. F. HOFFMANo 33 AMERICAN SONGS AND LYRICS. €o dne in ^axcibm. npHOU wast all that to me, love,For which my soul did pine:A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrineAll wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers. And all the flowers were mine. Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope, that didst ariseBut to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, On! on! — but oer the Past (Dim gulf !) my spirit hovering liesMute, motionless, aghast. For, alas ! alas ! with me The light of Life is oer! No more — no more — no more —(Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore)Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar. 34. EDGAR ALLAN POE TO ONE IN PARADISE. And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreamsAre where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams, —In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams. E. A. PoE. <3S AMERICAN SONGS AND LYRICS. fyn i^t ®eaf5 of ^oztip^ (^^mMt /^ KEEN be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days !None knew thee but to love thee,Nor named thee but to praise. Tears fell when thou wert dying, From eyes unused to long, where thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven, Like thine, are laid in should a wreath be woven To tell the world their worth; And I, who woke each morrow To clasp thy hand in mine,Who shared thy joy and sorrow. Whose weal and woe were thine, 36 THE DEATH OF JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow,But Ive in vain essayed it, And feel I cannot now. While memory bids me weep th
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