Then, sound notes--the gayest, the lightest,
That ever took wing, when heaven looked brightest!
Again! Again!
Oh! could such heart-stirring music be heard
In that City of Statues described by romancers,
So wakening its spell, even stone would be stirred,
And statues themselves all start into dancers!
Why then delay, with such sounds in our ears,
And the flower of Beauty's own garden before us,--
While stars overhead leave the song of their spheres,
And listening to ours, hang wondering o'er us?
Again, that strain!--to hear it thus sounding
Might set even Death's cold pulses bounding--
Again! Again!
Oh, what delight when the youthful and gay,
Each with eye like a sunbeam and foot like a feather,
Thus dance, like the Hours to the music of May,
And mingle sweet song and sunshine together!
THERE ARE SOUNDS OF MIRTH.
There are sounds of mirth in the night-air ringing,
And lamps from every casement shown;
While voices blithe within are singing,
That seem to say "Come," in every tone.
Ah! once how light, in Life's young season,
My heart had leapt at that sweet lay;
Nor paused to ask of graybeard Reason
Should I the syren call obey.
And, see--the lamps still livelier glitter,
The syren lips more fondly sound;
No, seek, ye nymphs, some victim fitter
To sink in your rosy bondage bound.
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