by Mary Tighe
Sweet is the strain whose soothing power
May charm the solitary hour,
And bid the heart o’er sorrow born
Forget to heave the sigh forlorn.
But ah! more sweet the voice that speaks
Affection’s truth when friendship wakes,
And bids the heart exulting rise
To catch the rapture of the eyes.
Then let the song its tribute pay
To greet thy glad returning day;
And may each future season prove
A new delight, a joy, a love.
May peace with mild and gentle ray
Illume for thee life’s future way;
And may no cloud obscure the light
That beams from hope’s serenest height.