Behold the valley in the moonlight sleeping,1
How soothing is its pastoral repose2
A goodly scene for eyes bedimmed with weeping,3
Ere wearied eyelids on the pillow close.4
She said, ‘ I know the land is very fair ;5
But ah, my childhood’s footfall never bounded there !’6
Behold the ancient woods in golden glory,7
Seek ye their solitary mystic glades,8
List to the shining river’s bubbling story,9
By flowery banks or bowering orchard shades,10
She said, ‘ Not there I heard the pleading words,11
More thrilling far than song of sweetest woodland birds !12
Behold the ivied tower and mouldering walls,13
From whence the voice of praise ascends on high,14
And chiming bells, whose welcome influence falls15
On pilgrim hearts like niusic from the sky.16
She said, ‘ Thrice hallowed be the house of prayer ;17
But no beloved dust lies consecrated there !’18
Behold the radiant stars are gazing down19
In myriads on the shrouded world beneath,20
While we, lamenting misspent moments flown,21
May ponder mysteries of life and death.22
She said, ‘ The dove sought rest—no rest it found :23
The ark is still our home, though billows surge around !’24