Poems (Storrie)/Love's Illusions
Love's Illusions.
I know a creek, a little creek Hid in a hill's embraces, Where they who still for Beauty seek May find her lingering traces. The willows, with long tresses bent, Shadow the water over; The air has caught a mystic scent— Well, yes! perhaps it's clover!
I know a beach, a little beach Of snowy sand, bespangled With jewels, quaintly carven; each In strange sea-growths entangled; The wavelet softly breaks and curls, Singing in broken trebles, And stirs the opals and the pearls ———Of course they may be pebbles!
I know a song, a lovely song, One happy thought expressing; I hear it rising, full and strong, The listening air caressing. No mortal knows so rare a tone, Nor lark in raptures airy; Some spirit 'tis that calls my own ———They say it's only Mary!