THE SOUL THAT WAS SHROUDED .

I.

The soul that was shrouded in sorrow's dark night
A peace-promising beam woke to gladness and light;
And the lute, that so long lorn and tuneless had hung,
Once more with the wild notes of melody rung!

II.

Ah! why did that beam only shine to beguile, —
Ah! why did it teach the fond mourner to smile?
Why faithlessly grant him a seeming reprieve,
Then leave him in sadness still deeper to grieve?

III.

The light is gone by — and the music is o'er,
And the feelings so lovely — are lovely no more;
That soul, once again, its dark vigils is keeping,
And the Lute neath the cold chain of Silence is sleeping!