To The Moon

BUSH and vale thou fill'st again With thy misty ray, And my spirit's heavy chain Castest far away. Thou dost o'er my fields extend Thy sweet soothing eye, Watching like a gentle friend, O'er my destiny. Vanish'd days of bliss and woe Haunt me with their tone, Joy and grief in turns I know, As I stray alone. Stream beloved, flow on! flow on! Ne'er can I be gay! Thus have sport and kisses gone, Truth thus pass'd away. Once I seem'd the lord to be Of that prize so fair! Now, to our deep sorrow, we Can forget it ne'er. Murmur, stream, the vale along, Never cease thy sighs; Murmur, whisper to my song Answering melodies! When thou in the winter's night Overflow'st in wrath, Or in spring-time sparklest bright, As the buds shoot forth. He who from the world retires, Void of hate, is blest; Who a friend's true love inspires, Leaning on his breast! That which heedless man ne'er knew, Or ne'er thought aright, Roams the bosom's labyrinth through, Boldly into night.