miscellaneous poems.
57
To feel the magic of thy voice
But come to me in dreams,
As rest the shadows of sweet flowers
Upon the moon-lit streams.
But come to me in dreams,
As rest the shadows of sweet flowers
Upon the moon-lit streams.
That pleasant voice that speaks to me
Of passion's fervent hour;
Hours which o'er life's worst darkness fling
Affection's soothing power.
Of passion's fervent hour;
Hours which o'er life's worst darkness fling
Affection's soothing power.
As morning hues upon the sea
Seem blended with the sky,
From which it borrows all the tints
That on its calm waves lie.
Seem blended with the sky,
From which it borrows all the tints
That on its calm waves lie.
So blended seems my soul with thine,
So borrow I sweet thought,
In gazing on those deep-soul'd eyes,
So with love's mysteries fraught.
So borrow I sweet thought,
In gazing on those deep-soul'd eyes,
So with love's mysteries fraught.
Then let me rest thus by thy side,
And feel that thou art near,
For never, till we parted, love,
Knew I thou wert so dear.
And feel that thou art near,
For never, till we parted, love,
Knew I thou wert so dear.
