415 



IHE WOOD-THRUSH'S EVENING SONG. 



Tardus iW*Zorfu».T-( Wilson.) 



Still Memqjiy -cull^, Qj Happiness ! 



For THEE her sweetest flowers ; — 

 The violet, the pink/the rose, 



And woodbine, froni her bowers. 



When earth bfetddftifes'^^'dreidi'y'vo'id; 



For THEE her magic wand 

 She waves, andlo! in colours bright, 



A wondrotts fairy land ! 



When friends forsake us — when the fates 



The dearest friends divide,^ 

 For THEE still Memory hovers near. 



Thy long affianc'd bride. 



The tender look — the dying word 



She holds for ever dear; 

 And, while affection prompts the sigh, 



And sorrow sheds the tear, 



She beckons Hope, in misty robe, 



And thee to deck the urn ; 

 And dwells with sad delight, on hours 



Ihat never can return. 



