Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so link'd together Like leaves in wintry weather, Who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. THE BOWER OF ROSES. HERE'S a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, THE And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think Is the nightingale singing there yet? Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer? No, the roses soon withered that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gathered while freshly they shone, And a dew was distilled from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight ere it dies An essence that breathes of it many a year; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, FAL Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on the shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Anne's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past. Why should we yet our sail unfurl? Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Utawas' tide! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon. TO THOSE WE'VE LEFT BEHIND US. AS slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, From all the links that bind us; When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years |