Poems (Eliza Gabriella Lewis)/To ——— (Thy mellow voice is still upon mine ear)
For works with similar titles, see To ———.
TO ———
Thy mellow voice is still upon mine ear,
Sweet as the murmuring of the distant brake,
Nature's wild melody, when soft and clear,
Light zephyr bids its harmony awake.
Sweet as the murmuring of the distant brake,
Nature's wild melody, when soft and clear,
Light zephyr bids its harmony awake.
But changed, alas! thine eyes' deep tenderness,
To looks of cold indifference—careless, free;
It seem'd as if e'en memory had less
Of its sweet treasures, when I gazed on thee.
To looks of cold indifference—careless, free;
It seem'd as if e'en memory had less
Of its sweet treasures, when I gazed on thee.
And is it thus the fond heart is repaid
For restless hours of watching and of grief?
For thoughts of thee, when low in sickness laid,
To whisper thy lov'd name seemed a relief.
For restless hours of watching and of grief?
For thoughts of thee, when low in sickness laid,
To whisper thy lov'd name seemed a relief.
Alas! that I might dream of hope once more,
Of love, that fleeted as a summer beam
On troubled waters—that a moment wore
Its sunny radience—oh, that I could dream!
Of love, that fleeted as a summer beam
On troubled waters—that a moment wore
Its sunny radience—oh, that I could dream!
But, no, it may not be, for we have met
As strangers meet; the careless smile and free—
The hand's cold touch—oh, said they not—"forget
All that I vow'd—all that I was to thee?"
As strangers meet; the careless smile and free—
The hand's cold touch—oh, said they not—"forget
All that I vow'd—all that I was to thee?"
My dream is o'er, and on the whispering breeze,
Or in the song that bids the wood rejoice,
I'll trace no more thy word's sweet melodies,
Nor think that music speaketh with thy voice.
Or in the song that bids the wood rejoice,
I'll trace no more thy word's sweet melodies,
Nor think that music speaketh with thy voice.