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  • The Masonic Magazine
  • April 1, 1881
  • Page 19
  • A TWILIGHT SONG ON THE RIVER FOWEY.
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The Masonic Magazine, April 1, 1881: Page 19

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    Article WAS SHAKESPEARE A FREEMASON ? ← Page 5 of 5
    Article A TWILIGHT SONG ON THE RIVER FOWEY. Page 1 of 1
Page 19

Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.

Was Shakespeare A Freemason ?

seriousness ; let it be sufficient to add that it was commenced with a pleasure , lasting to the end , which is reached with reluctance and regret . So much has been left unsaid that might have been well said—so much said that might have been far better said—so many points of interest scantily touched—so many left untouched altogether ; still the object sought will be attained , if a gleam of pleasure has been conveyed to a single reader—if a grain of information has been imparted—or a thought communicated in harmony with the intention .

A Twilight Song On The River Fowey.

A TWILIGHT SONG ON THE RIVER FOWEY .

BY BRO . EMRA HOLMES . THE g low of the sunset clings to the gorse , Its golden clusters entrance mine eyes ; And niht-birdsfling across my course

g , y , Greet mine ears with their peaceful cries . The waves come lapping in o ' er the strand , A white-sailed vessel goes idly by , Soft twilig ht comes over all the land , Like to the heavenly " by-and-bye . "

I step on board of my little bark , And put out aimlessly from the shore ; The evening star , like a brilliant spark , Gleams from sapphire skies as of yore . A great white owl flits over the wood

, With its mournful cry tu-whit-tn-woo ; Methinks I have that folly withstood , The strong temptation , to wit to woo . For I am too poor to offer a home To the girl I shall love for ever and aye ;

And I would scorn to ask her to come , Fearful lest she should say me nay . 'Neath the hanging woods on the rivers' marge My echoing oars wake the silent stream , And the swaying branches , looming large , Lean over and beckon , like ghosts in a dream

But somehow my boat seems to know its way To the maiden ' s bower : what can one do ? A fluttering figu re ; I haste to the fray : What have I come for ?• To wit to woo .

“The Masonic Magazine: 1881-04-01, Page 19” Masonic Periodicals Online, Library and Museum of Freemasonry, 24 May 2025, django:8000/periodicals/mmg/issues/mmg_01041881/page/19/.
  • List
  • Grid
Title Category Page
HISTORY OF THE AIREDALE LODGE, No. 387, Article 1
THE PRESENT POSITION OF MASONIC HISTORY AND CRITICISM. Article 6
CURIOUS LIST OF LODGES, A.D. 1736. Article 8
AUTUMN. Article 13
MYSTICISM. Article 14
WAS SHAKESPEARE A FREEMASON ? Article 15
A TWILIGHT SONG ON THE RIVER FOWEY. Article 19
A TALE OF VENICE IN 1781. Article 20
A NEW HISTORY OF FREEMASONRY. Article 21
OLD BOOKS. Article 24
SPRING. Article 29
CONISHEAD PRIORY. Article 30
LITERARY GOSSIP. Article 34
FAITH AND LOVE. Article 36
AFTER ALL. Article 36
NURSERY DECORATION AND HYGIENE. Article 41
BRO. THOMAS TOPHAM, THE STRONG MAN. Article 43
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Page 19

Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.

Was Shakespeare A Freemason ?

seriousness ; let it be sufficient to add that it was commenced with a pleasure , lasting to the end , which is reached with reluctance and regret . So much has been left unsaid that might have been well said—so much said that might have been far better said—so many points of interest scantily touched—so many left untouched altogether ; still the object sought will be attained , if a gleam of pleasure has been conveyed to a single reader—if a grain of information has been imparted—or a thought communicated in harmony with the intention .

A Twilight Song On The River Fowey.

A TWILIGHT SONG ON THE RIVER FOWEY .

BY BRO . EMRA HOLMES . THE g low of the sunset clings to the gorse , Its golden clusters entrance mine eyes ; And niht-birdsfling across my course

g , y , Greet mine ears with their peaceful cries . The waves come lapping in o ' er the strand , A white-sailed vessel goes idly by , Soft twilig ht comes over all the land , Like to the heavenly " by-and-bye . "

I step on board of my little bark , And put out aimlessly from the shore ; The evening star , like a brilliant spark , Gleams from sapphire skies as of yore . A great white owl flits over the wood

, With its mournful cry tu-whit-tn-woo ; Methinks I have that folly withstood , The strong temptation , to wit to woo . For I am too poor to offer a home To the girl I shall love for ever and aye ;

And I would scorn to ask her to come , Fearful lest she should say me nay . 'Neath the hanging woods on the rivers' marge My echoing oars wake the silent stream , And the swaying branches , looming large , Lean over and beckon , like ghosts in a dream

But somehow my boat seems to know its way To the maiden ' s bower : what can one do ? A fluttering figu re ; I haste to the fray : What have I come for ?• To wit to woo .

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