Poems (Denver)/Ida
IDA.
Beautiful Ida, to thy deep, dark eye,
A thousand thoughts flow up unceasingly,
Like sparkling fountains leaping toward the sky,
A thousand thoughts flow up unceasingly,
Like sparkling fountains leaping toward the sky,
Bearing a beauty with them that might rest,
In purity upon an angel's breast,
Could they but reach those mansions of the blest;—
In purity upon an angel's breast,
Could they but reach those mansions of the blest;—
And music, like the dropping of a tear,
That, could it penetrate an angel's ear,
Angels would pause and turn aside to hear.
That, could it penetrate an angel's ear,
Angels would pause and turn aside to hear.
And why not? From the heart in which they lie
They come in throngs to be received on high,
And sparkle in the diadem of the sky.
They come in throngs to be received on high,
And sparkle in the diadem of the sky.