An Invitation
To lead fond lovers to their midnight bower,
That unto each it might be given to say,
Bliss has been mine!
To-night, to-night on bush and bower
The lady-moon will shine;
Then come, and glad that rosy hour
With all those charms of thine.
The stars will twinkle in the sky
Like those bright eyes I love;
The soft breeze, like a lover's sigh
Will play around our grove.
The bulbul's song will be doubly sweet;
The wave will wander by,
And bring its music to thy feet,
And Lady! so will I.
My fairest wreath of minstrelsy
For thee I'll proudly twine;
And that the sweetest flower shall be
Which tells those charms of thine.
Around my bower the woodbine twines,
The rosebud blooms there too —
But what are these, and the clustering vines,
And the myrtle, without you?
My cup will flow with regal wine,
Like thy lips so rich and red ;
And there the moonbeams white will shine
Upon that ruby bed.
But what's red wine or moonbeam white,
if thee I meet not there?
Thy cheek shall be the red wine bright,
Thy brow the moonbeam fair.
Thy fairy feet on flowers shall tread
By angels scattered round;
Each sight for thee shall beauteous be,
And musical each sound.
Then come — to-night, on bush, and bower
The lady-moon will shine ,
O! come, and glad that rosy hour
With all those charms of thine.