Here's many a youth with radiant brow
Darkened by raven curls like thine,
Beauty, whose smile burns even now,
And love-tales made by song divine:
And these have been the guardian powers
To words as sweet as summer flowers.
I’ll tell thee now the history
Of these sweet shapes: they are so dear,
Each has been on a scroll from thee;
Thy kiss, thy sigh, are glowing here:
They'll be the spirit of each tone
I fain would wake from chords long gone.
Just glimpses of the fairest dreams
I've had when in a hot noon sleeping,
Or those diviner, wilder gleams
When I some starry watch was keeping;
And sometimes those bright waves of thought
Only from lips like thine, Love, caught.
Oh dear, these lights from the old world,
So redolent with love and song!
Those radiant gods, now downward hurled
From the bright thrones they held so long!
But they have power that cannot die
Over the heart's eternity.[1]
- ↑ signature after later poem
