TO ———.
Wilt thou not think of me with mournful heart,
When our warm lips and clasping hands shall part?
And in thy soul's deep cell
Will not my memory be treasured up,
Fresh as the dews that in the lily's cup
In sweetness dwell?
When our warm lips and clasping hands shall part?
And in thy soul's deep cell
Will not my memory be treasured up,
Fresh as the dews that in the lily's cup
In sweetness dwell?
And, as those dropping dews upon the flowers
Sweeten their leaves through all the dreamy hours
When weary eyelids close,
So may my memory, in thine hours of gloom,
Be to thy soul a balm, a soft perfume,
To soothe thy woes.
Sweeten their leaves through all the dreamy hours
When weary eyelids close,
So may my memory, in thine hours of gloom,
Be to thy soul a balm, a soft perfume,
To soothe thy woes.
I'd have thee think of me when thou art gone,
As one round whom a fairy spell is thrown
Of bright poetic dreams,
Whose sweet wild thoughts, from their unfathomed fount,
The heart, like flashing waters, upward mount
In sparkling gleams.
As one round whom a fairy spell is thrown
Of bright poetic dreams,
Whose sweet wild thoughts, from their unfathomed fount,
The heart, like flashing waters, upward mount
In sparkling gleams.
And, when thy wandering feet are roaming o'er
The golden sands of some bright, distant shore,
The golden sands of some bright, distant shore,
