Moonbeams
H. Bartlett
Stealing softly through the lattice,
Playing o'er the oaken floor,
Is a sweet and dancing moonbeam,
Brighter than the shining ore.
Moonbeam, tell -- O, tell me whither
Thou hast come to this cold earth!
Wast thou lured by twilight hither,
To play around the social hearth?
Wast thou born amid the ether
Round sweet Luna's crescent pale?
Did she bid thee to come hither,
And illumine height and vale?
Fairest moonbeam, 'twere much fitter
Thou shouldst shine around God's throne,
There in beauty e'er to glitter,
Lighting angels in their home.
Moonbeam, may we like thee ever
Strive to be a "shining light,"
Till we go to live forever
In those heavenly regions bright.