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THE CARRIER PIGEON.
Ah, gentle bird, that, on my heart now lying,
Art far more tranquil than what beats below;
With thy soft eyes unto mine own replying,
Sweet pleading for the love which they bestow.
I am to thee a queen, and my dominion
Is absolute upon thy sunny flight;
For me thou dost restrain thy arrowy pinion—
To me thou comest with the coming night.
'Neath the soft shadow of thy wing thou bearest
The scroll, which is to me of life or death;
The likeness of my love to me thou wearest,
He kissed thy plumes, still fragrant with his breath.
How weary is the golden noon which covers
Our valleys with the loveliness of light;
Dearer the purple twilight when it hovers
O’er the far mountain, and thy homeward flight.
