Poems (Hooper)/A Presentiment
Appearance
A PRESENTIMENT.
Heart, take thy fill of pleasure!
Hereafter cometh pain.
Take now this gift of gladness,
'Twill ne'er be thine again.
The springtime and the summer
Shall brighten o'er the sea,
This vision of their beauty
Shall be unseen by thee.
Hereafter cometh pain.
Take now this gift of gladness,
'Twill ne'er be thine again.
The springtime and the summer
Shall brighten o'er the sea,
This vision of their beauty
Shall be unseen by thee.
The sun in golden splendor
Shall flush the waves with light,
The moonlight soft and tender
Shall glorify the night.
The waves with loving murmur
Shall kiss the sleeping shore,
Where thou shalt stand hereafter
Ah, never—never more!
Shall flush the waves with light,
The moonlight soft and tender
Shall glorify the night.
The waves with loving murmur
Shall kiss the sleeping shore,
Where thou shalt stand hereafter
Ah, never—never more!
The tender kiss of summer
Shall wake the buds to bloom,
The gentle breath of summer
Shall lend the breeze perfume;
But sight, and sound, and sweetness,
Upon this fairest shore,
Are thine but for a season,
And shall be thine no more.
Shall wake the buds to bloom,
The gentle breath of summer
Shall lend the breeze perfume;
But sight, and sound, and sweetness,
Upon this fairest shore,
Are thine but for a season,
And shall be thine no more.
I know not whence the mandate,
Whose accents strange and deep,
In solemn words of warning,
Now o'er my spirit sweep.
I know not whose the voices,
Whose fiat soundeth stern,
"Soon cometh thy departure,
And never thy return."
Whose accents strange and deep,
In solemn words of warning,
Now o'er my spirit sweep.
I know not whose the voices,
Whose fiat soundeth stern,
"Soon cometh thy departure,
And never thy return."
Look out upon the landscape,
And whisper, 'It is fair;"'
Let parted lips and smiling
Draw fragrance from the air:
Heart, take thy fill of pleasure
While summer sunsets burn;
Soon cometh the departing,
And never the return.
And whisper, 'It is fair;"'
Let parted lips and smiling
Draw fragrance from the air:
Heart, take thy fill of pleasure
While summer sunsets burn;
Soon cometh the departing,
And never the return.