Читать книгу Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII No. 6 June 1848 - Various - Страница 7

Far in the ocean of the Night

There lyeth an Enchanted Isle,

Within a veil of mellow light,

That blesseth like affection's smile.

It tingeth with a rosy hue

All objects in that country fair,

Like summer twilight, when the dew

Is trembling in the fragrant air.

And there is music evermore,

That seemeth sleeping on the breeze.

Like sound of sweet bells from the shore

Lingering along the summer seas.

And there are rivers, bowers, and groves,

And fountains fringed with blossomed weeds,

And all sweet birds that sing their loves

'Mid stately flowers or tasseled reeds.

All that is beautiful of earth,

All that is valued, all that's dear,

All that is pure of mortal birth,

Lives in immortal beauty here.

All tender buds that ever grew

For us on Hope's ephemeral tree,

All loves, all joys, that e'er we knew,

Bloom in that country gloriously.

There is no parting there, no change,

No death, no fading, no decay;

No hand is cold, no voice is strange,

No eye is dark – or turned away.

To us, who daily toil and weep,

How welcome is Night's starry smile,

When in the fairy barge of Sleep

We visit the Enchanted Isle.

All holy hearts that worship Truth,

Though bleak their daily pathway seems,

Find treasure and immortal youth

In that fair isle of happy dreams.

But, if the soul have dwelt with sin,

It landeth on that isle no more,

Though it would give its life to win

One glimpse but of the pleasant shore.

Their joys, which have been thrown away,

Or stained with guilt, can bloom no more,

And o'er the night their vessels stray

Where pale shades weep, and surges roar.