CITY--EVENING--ENTER ODORA--LOVER SPEAKS.
Again I meet my love. 'Tis wondrous bliss,
That such a Moon shines on my spirit's night.
Like yonder moon, at times, she disappears;--
But still the virtue of her visit stays,
Till she returns, with moon-like certainty.
Come, my Odora come! sing,
ODORA SINGS.
When winds are cold, and winter strips,
The Oak and ghostly Pine;
And fastens every streamlet's lips,
And cold icicles shine:
Still fair amid the scene so bleak,
The daisy flower is seen;
So truest love will comfort speak,
And make life's winter green.
That strain would charm an adder even to tears,
So sweet a song, from mouth so full of grace.
Before I saw thee, my Odora! ne'er
I thought this world could ever grow so fair
To me. Love throws a rosy, sparkling tissue
On mountain, hill, lake, tree, shrub, leaf and flower,
Love sweetens every note of nature seven fold.
But sing again. Thy voice is like a harp.
ODORA SINGS.
When winds are bleak, and snows are deep,
And waters frozen dumb;
And voiceless insects snugly sleep,
Where beam can never come:
The daisy blooms beneath some tree,
That screens her form from harm;--
So, love! I nestle near to thee,
And live beneath thy arm.
Oh! angel! thou dost sing a meaning lay,
And teachest wisdom, in sweet poetry.
But whence, my fair philosopher, thy lore,
Hath God bestowed such deep laid knowledge on
A light and playsome girl, whose pranks and wiles
Have quite bewitched my would-be firmer soul.
Methinks thou singest well to-night; adieu,
And may pure angels bring thee radiant dreams.