Poems (Van Vorst)/On the Norman Cliffs
ON THE NORMAN CLIFFS
The summer fields sweep to the farther blue
Crimson with poppies, yellow gold with grain.
They roll their warm wealth seaward—thus to you
I bring my boundless love. Dearest, in vain
Would I bestow its treasure otherwhere;
It floods to find your heart—enfold it there!
Crimson with poppies, yellow gold with grain.
They roll their warm wealth seaward—thus to you
I bring my boundless love. Dearest, in vain
Would I bestow its treasure otherwhere;
It floods to find your heart—enfold it there!
The land's caress the far seas never knew;
Not on the wave falls the sweet rain of gold.
Far lie the changeful waters, pure and cold,
Sundered by the high cliffs: thus I from you
By Fate am kept a universe apart.
And yet my constant thought inspires me
To seek to lay my love upon your heart.
Not on the wave falls the sweet rain of gold.
Far lie the changeful waters, pure and cold,
Sundered by the high cliffs: thus I from you
By Fate am kept a universe apart.
And yet my constant thought inspires me
To seek to lay my love upon your heart.