O

��BRET HARTE 81$. What the Bullet sang

JOY of creation, To be!

rapture, to fly

And be free! Be the battle lost or won, Though its smoke shall hide the sun,

1 shall find my love the one

Born for me !

I shall know him where he stands

All alone, With the power in his hands

Not o'erthrown ; I shall know him by his face, By his godlike front and grace ; I shall hold him for a space

All my own !

It is he O my love !

So bold! It is I all thy love

Foretold !

It is I O love, what bliss! Dost thou answer to my kiss? O sweetheart! what is this

Lieth there so cold?

��99*

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