valentines.
119
Thy gentle heart is like the couch of resting,
That welcomes home the wanderer of the deep,
To my tired spirit, weary with long breasting
The midnight waves that round about me sweep.
That welcomes home the wanderer of the deep,
To my tired spirit, weary with long breasting
The midnight waves that round about me sweep.
Thy soul is like a silver lake at even,
Emblem of power, and purity, and rest,—
Within its depths the eternal stars of heaven,
While earth's fair lilies float upon its breast.
Emblem of power, and purity, and rest,—
Within its depths the eternal stars of heaven,
While earth's fair lilies float upon its breast.
TO A POET.
Tender and pale the young moon shone,—
The time of dreams stole o'er the earth,
Stilling the greenwood's sounds of mirth,
Hushing the wild birds to repose,
Save the nightingale, who warbled on,
Leaning his breast against a rose;
'T was then from out a forest bower
Through shadows peered one wakeful flower,
Her azure robe with night-dews wet,
Watching a star through the purple even;
And the star, though shining in highest heaven,
Smiled down on the violet;
The time of dreams stole o'er the earth,
Stilling the greenwood's sounds of mirth,
Hushing the wild birds to repose,
Save the nightingale, who warbled on,
Leaning his breast against a rose;
'T was then from out a forest bower
Through shadows peered one wakeful flower,
Her azure robe with night-dews wet,
Watching a star through the purple even;
And the star, though shining in highest heaven,
Smiled down on the violet;
