P OETRY.
A BALLAD OF THE " THUNER-SEE." Soirr on the lake's soft bosom we twain, Float in the haze of a dim delight, While the wavelets cradle the sleepless brain, And the eyes are glad of the lessening light,
And the east with a fading glory is bright— The lingering smile of a sun that is set—
And the earth in its tender sorrow is dight, And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet ?
'Oh I the mellow beam of the suns that wane, Of the joys, ah me ! that are taking flight; Oh, the sting of a rapture too near to pain, And of love that loveth in death's despite !
But the hour is ours, and its beauty's might Subdues our souls to a still regret, While the Blumlis-alp unveils to the night, And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet !
Now we set our prow to the land again, And our backs to those splendours ghostly white, Zut a mirrored star with a watery train We hold in our wake as a golden kite ; When we near the shore, with its darkening height, And its darker shade on the waters set, Lol the dim shade fladth before our sight, And the shadow that falleth 'lath spared us yet!
ENVOY.
'From the jewelled circles where I indite This song, which my faithless tears make wet, We trail the light till its jemmed rings smite The shadow,—that falleth! and spares us yet.
EMILY PFEIFFER.
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