THE

RISING VILLAGE,

WITH

OTHER POEMS.

By Oliver Goldsmith

© St. John, N.B.: John McMillan, 1834


 

TO THERESE.



Look round, Therese, how soft these scenes appear,
    How calm, how beautiful, and still;
No sound now breaks upon the listening ear,
    But murmurs from yon little rill.

So calm it is, the zephyrs of the air

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    Now sleep on every fragrant rose;
In dewy softness resting linger there,
    Till morning wakes them from repose.

And look, how softly does the queen of night
    Descend along the cloudless skies; [Page 136]

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In beauty shining by her lover’s light,
    And ever following as he flies.

At such a time when nature’s magic powers
    Present a scene so pure as this,
’Tis said of old that angels left their bowers,

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    To taste on earth a mortal’s bliss.

And well may they have left their happy skies,
    To linger for a moment here,
When hearts like thine, and looks, and sparkling eyes
    Are tenants of our humble sphere. [Page 137]

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