The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Lines to her who can understand them
LINES
TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND THEM.
Air: “To ladies’ eyes a round, boy!”
he song that o’er me hovered,
In summer’s hour, in summer’s hour,
To-day with joy has covered
My winter bower, my winter bower.
Blest be the lips that breathe it,
As mine have been, as mine have been,
When pressed in dreams beneath it,
To hers unseen, to hers unseen.
And may her heart, wherever
Its hope may be, its hope may be,
Beat happily, though never
To beat for me, to beat for me!
Is she a spirit given
One hour to earth, one hour to earth,
To bring me dreams from heaven,
Her place of birth, her place of birth?
Or minstrel maiden hidden,
Like cloistered nun, like cloistered nun,
A bud, a flower forbidden,
To air and sun, to air and sun?
For had I power to summon,
With harp divine, with harp divine,
The angel or the woman,
The last were mine, the last were mine.
If earth-born beauty’s fingers
Awaked the lay, awaked the lay,
Whose echoed music lingers
Around my way, around my way,
Where smiles the hearth she blesses
With voice and eye, with voice and eye?
Where binds the night her tresses,
When sleep is nigh, when sleep is nigh!
Is Fashion’s bleak cold mountain
Her bosom’s throne, her bosom’s throne?
Or love’s green vale and fountain,
With one alone, with one alone?
Why ask! why seek a treasure
Like her I sing, like her I sing?
Her name nor pain nor pleasure
To me should bring, to me should bring.
Love must not grieve or gladden
My thoughts of snow, my thoughts of snow,
Nor woman soothe or sadden
My path below, my path below.
Before a worldlier altar
I’ve knelt too long, I’ve knelt too long;
And if my footsteps falter,
’Tis but in song, ’tis but in song.
Nor would I break the vision
Young fancies frame, young fancies frame,
That lights with stars Elysian
A poet’s name, a poet’s name.
For she whose gentle spirit
Such dreams sublime, such dreams sublime,
Gives hues they do not merit
To sons of rhyme, to sons of rhyme,
But place the proudest near her,
Whate’er their pen, whate’er their pen,
She’ll say (be mute who hear her)
Mere mortal men, mere mortal men!
Yet though unseen, unseeing,
We meet and part, we meet and part,
Be still my worshipped being,
In mind and heart, in mind and heart.
And bid thy song that found me,
My minstrel-maid, my minstrel-maid!
Be winter’s sunbeam round me,
And summer’s shade, and summer’s shade.
I could not gaze upon thee,
And dare thy spell, and dare thy spell,
And when a happier won thee,
Thus bid farewell, thus bid farewell.