The Evansville Daily Journal

[From Graham's Magazine for May.]
Lines Written in a Beautiful Moonlight.
Sweet moon, I love thee, yet I grieve
To gaze on thy pale orb to-night;
It tells me of that last dear eve
I passed with her, my soul's delight.
Hill, vale and wood and stream were dyed
In the pale glory of thy beams,
As forth we wandered, side by side,
Once more to tell love's burning dreams,
My fond arm was her living zone,
My hand within her hand was pressed
And love was in each earnest tone,
And rapture in each heaving breast.
And many a high and fervent vow
Was breathed from her full heart and mine,
While thy calm light was on her brow
Like pure religion's seal and sign.
We knew, alas! that we must part.
We knew we must be severed long,
Yet joy was in each throbbing heart.
For love was deep, and faith was strong-
A thousand memories of the past
Were busy in each glowing breast,
And hope upon the future cast
Her rainbow hues-and we were blest.
I craved a boon-oh! in that boon
There was a wild, delirious bliss-
Ah, didst thou ever gaze, sweet moon,
Upon a more impassioned kiss?
The parting came—one moment brief
Her dim and fading form I viewed-
'Twas gone-and there I stood in grief
Amid the life's awful solitude.
Tell me, sweet moon, for thou canst tell
If passion still unchanged is hers-
Do thoughts of me her heart still swell
Among her many worshippers?
Say, does she sometimes wander now
At eve beneath thy gentle flame,
To raise to heaven her angel brow
And breath her absent lover's name?
Oh when her gentle lids are wet,
I pray thee, mark each falling gem,
And tell me if my image yet
Is pictured tremblingly in them!
Ah, tell me, does her bosom thrill
As wildly as of yore for me-
Does her young heart adore me still,
Or is that young heart changed like thee?
Oh let thy beams, that softest shine,
If still my love to her is dear,
Bear to her gentle heart from mine
A sigh, a blessing, and a tear.
G. D. P.