By Night
To yon still house I raise mine eyes,
Against a tree reclined;
For there in soft repose she lies,
To sweetest dreams resigned.
And oft to heav'n I glance from thence,
Dark clouds obscure its blue;
But lo! tho' seem the clouds so dense,
The moonbeam glimmers through.
Against a tree reclined;
For there in soft repose she lies,
To sweetest dreams resigned.
And oft to heav'n I glance from thence,
Dark clouds obscure its blue;
But lo! tho' seem the clouds so dense,
The moonbeam glimmers through.
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