Oh, what shall be my song to-night ?
The earth, the sea, or sky,
The star-gems, with their trembling light,
Or night-bird's plaintive cry?
Not such can fill the lonely heart
With thoughts of bliss divine;
Not such a holy thrill impart
To spirit warm as thine.

The dawning of a lovely form
Upon the raptured eye;
The hand's soft touch, so true and warm,
The red lip's answering sigh ;
The gentle voice for which we yearn
In crowds or lonely dell,
The beaming eye to which we turn
Enthralled by beauty's spell,—

These be the burden of my song,
While dreams of heaven are thine,
Made glorious by the angel throng
Bowed at an earthly shrine.
Then turn thee once from them to-night
To one who wanders free,
To sing how all things pure and bright
Have found a home in thee.