In the Morning by Willis Boyd Allen - HTML preview

UNKNOWN.

There’s a star a-light in the gloaming,

A gleam in the skies above;

There’s a flower at rest on her bosom,—

On the heart of her I love.

What says the star of the twilight?

What is the song of the flower?

A cloud has covered the star-beam;

The blossom lived but an hour.

Nay, ’tis the infinite heaven,

The depth beyond, that speak;

’Tis the heart that throbs ’neath the blossom,

Not the lip nor the fair white cheek.

The voice of the heavens is tender,

Its whisper is fond and low;

But the voice of the heart that is throbbing—

Its message I cannot know.