a love poem.
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V.
And then this wearied, baffled life,
With struggle rent and torn,
Must needs resume its toil and strife
With the bereaving morn.
And beckoning palms, and argent wings,
And bowers of asphodel,
Will change to sands and dreary wastes,
And welcomes, to farewells.
With struggle rent and torn,
Must needs resume its toil and strife
With the bereaving morn.
And beckoning palms, and argent wings,
And bowers of asphodel,
Will change to sands and dreary wastes,
And welcomes, to farewells.
VI.
Yet still I slept; and then, as stars
That faintly, one by one,
Expectant, hushed, look through cloud-bars
At the departing sun;—
Or roses flushed with crimson bloom,
Mature, perfumed, complete,
Drop in their places garland-wise
Around a trellised seat;
That faintly, one by one,
Expectant, hushed, look through cloud-bars
At the departing sun;—
Or roses flushed with crimson bloom,
Mature, perfumed, complete,
Drop in their places garland-wise
Around a trellised seat;
VII.
Incarnate in fair shapes of light,
The hopes of my glad prime
The hopes of my glad prime
