Liberty Advocate

POETRY
(From the Southern Literary Messenger.]

Musings.
BY AMELIA, OF LOUISVILLE, KY.

I wandered out one summer night.
"Twas when my years were few—
The breeze was singing in the light,
And I was singing too.
The moonbeams lay upon the hill,
The shadows in the vale.
And here and there a leaping rill,
Was laughing at the gale
One fleecy cloud upon the air.
Was all that met my eyes—
It floated like an angel there
Between me and the skies
I clapped my hands and warbled wild
As here and there I flew,
For I was but a careless child,
And did as children do.
The waves came dancing o'er the sea
In bright and glittering bands;
Like little children wild with glee
They linked their dimple hands.
They linked their hands—but ere I caught
Their sprinkled drops of dew.
They kissed my feet, and quick as thought,
Away the ripples flew.
The twilight hours like birds flew by.
As lightly and as free;
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten thousand in the sea:
For every wave with dimpled cheek,
That leaped upon the air,
Had caught a star in its embrace,
And held it trembling there.
The young moon, too, with upturned sides,
Her mirror'd beauty gave;
And as a bark at anchor rides.
She rode upon the wave.
The sea was like the heaven above
As perfect and as whole,
Save that it seemed to thrill with love,
As thrills the immortal soul.
The leaves, by spirit-voices stirr'd
Made murmurs on the air,—
Low murmurs, that my spirit heard,
And answered with a prayer
For 'twas upon the dewy sod,
Beside the moaning seas,
I learned at first to worship God,
And sing such strains as these.
The flowers, all folded to their dreams,
Were bowed in slumber free,
By breezy hills and murmuring streams.
Where'er they chanced to be.
No guilty tears had they to weep,
Nor sins to be forgiven;
They closed their eyes, and went to sleep,
Right in the face of Heaven!
No costly raiment round them shone,
No jewels from the seas,
Yet Solomon upon his throne
Was ne'er arrayed like these.
And just as free from guilt and art,
Were lovely human flowers,
Ere Sorrow set her bleeding heart
On this fair world of ours.
I heard the laughing wind behind,
A-playing with my hair—
The breezy fingers of the wind,
How cool and moist they were!
I heard the night-bird warbling o'er
Its soft enchanting strain—
I never heard such sounds before,
And never shall again.
Then wherefore weave such strains as these,
And sing them day by day
When every bird upon the breeze
Can sing a sweeter lay.
I'd give the world for their sweet art,
The simple, the divine;
I'd give the world to melt one heart
As they have melted mine.