Oh, love! the dew lies on the flower,
And the stars gleam on the sea;
It is the charm'd, the silent hour,
When I should roam with thee.
The day dies out within the West,
The shadows gather near;
And now sweet fancies fill my breast,
And thou art strangely dear.

Behold! as yonder heavenly moon,
Breaks through the dark-blue sky,
And through night's deepest, stillest noon,
That brightness will supply--
Thy smile thus sheds its heavenly light
Athwart life's deepest gloom,--
Thus brightly gilds the spirit's night
Its gentle beams illume.