I'll think of thee--I'll think of thee
In every moment of grief or of glee;
The memory will come of these fleeting hours,
Like the scent that is wafted from distant flow'rs;
Like the faint, sweet echo that lingers on
When the tones that waken'd it are gone.
There's many a thought I may not tell,
Hidden beneath the heart's deep swell;
There's many a sweet and tender sigh
Breath'd out when only God is nigh;
And each familiar thing I see,
Is blended with the thought of thee.
Thy form will be miss'd from the social hearth,
Thy voice from the mingling tones of mirth;
When the sound of music is poured along--
When my soul hangs entranced on the poet's song--
When history points from her glowing page,
To the deathless deeds of a former age--
When my eye fills up and my heart beats high,
I shall look in vain for thine answering eye.
When the winds are lulled in the quiet sky,
And the sparkling waters go surging by,
And the cheering sun invites to walk,
I shall miss thine arm and thy pleasant talk:
My rustling step--the leafless tree--
The very rock will speak of thee.
I'll think of thee when the sunset dyes
Are glowing bright in the western skies;
When the dusky shades of evening's light
Are melting away into deeper night--
When the silvery moon looks bright above,
Raising the tides of human love--
When the holy stars look bright and far,
I'll think of thee--my _guiding star!_
When all save the beating heart is still,
And the chainless fancy soars at will,
When it lifts the dark veil from future years,
And flutters and trembles with hopes and fears,--
When it turns to retrace the burning past,
And the blinding tears come thick and fast--
And oh! when bending the humble knee
At the throne of God--I will _pray_ for thee!
And wilt thou sometimes think of me,
When thy thoughts from this stormy world are free?
When thou turnest o'erwearied from toil and strife
The warring passions of busy life,
May a still, small whispering, speak to thee,
Like a touch on thy heartstring--Love, think of me.