WHEN MOONLIKE ORE THE HAZURE SEAS.

By William Makepeace Thackeray

When moonlike ore the hazure seas

In soft effulgence swells,

When silver jews and balmy breaze

Bend down the Lily's bells;

When calm and deap, the rosy sleep

Has lapt your soal in dreems,

R Hangeline! R lady mine!

Dost thou remember Jeames?

I mark thee in the Marble All,

Where England's loveliest shine —

I say the fairest of them hall

Is Lady Hangeline.

My soul, in desolate eclipse,

With recollection teems —

And then I hask, with weeping lips,

Dost thou remember Jeames?

Away! I may not tell thee hall

This soughring heart endures —

There is a lonely sperrit-call

That Sorrow never cures;

There is a little, little Star,

That still above me beams;

It is the Star of Hope — but ar!

Dost thou remember Jeames?