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DREAMS.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

And turn on us their gentle eye

All unafeared; and when night came,

And western skies were all aflame,

We'd seek some cliff that beetling stood

And frowned upon the surging flood,

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And watch the sunset fade away

And shadows come in garb of gray

To blot the landscape from our sight;

But ere we felt the loss of light,

The stars should shimmer in the skies

And beckon to the moon to rise,

And straightway o'er the water's rim

Her face should peer, - at first so dim,

It seemed as if some sunset ray

Had thought to lengthen out the day;

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