_In The Moonlight_

The moonbeams filter softly through The leaves upon the linden tree; And as I sit alone, dear heart, My spirit yearns for thee!

Yet in some gracious-wise to-night We do not seem far worlds apart; I reach my empty arms and dream I fold thee to my heart.

I close my brimming eyes, and see The strange, sweet beauty of thy smile, And fancy that our palms are met In loving clasp the while.

In soft, clear tones, I seem to hear The long-hushed voice I loved so well; —I tremble, lest a breath should break This moment’s happy spell!

O brother mine, could it be true Thine own dear presence hovers near To comfort with this heavenly peace Thy little sister here?