STANZAS
If thou be in a lonely place,
If one hour's calm be thine,
As Evening bends her placid
face
O'er this sweet day's decline;
If all the earth and all
the heaven
Now look serene to thee,
As o'er them shuts the summer
even,
One moment--think of me!
Pause, in the lane, returning
home;
'Tis dusk, it will be still:
Pause near the elm, a sacred
gloom
Its breezeless boughs will
fill.
Look at that soft and golden
light,
High in the unclouded sky;
Watch the last bird's belated
flight,
As it flits silent by.
Hark! for a sound upon the
wind,
A step, a voice, a sigh;
If all be still, then yield
thy mind,
Unchecked, to memory.
If thy love were like mine,
how blest
That twilight hour would
seem,
When, back from the regretted
Past,
Returned our early dream!
If thy love were like mine,
how wild
Thy longings, even to pain,
For sunset soft, and moonlight
mild,
To bring that hour again!
But oft, when in thine arms
I lay,
I've seen thy dark eyes
shine,
And deeply felt their changeful
ray
Spoke other love than mine.
My love is almost anguish
now,
It beats so strong and true;
'Twere rapture, could I
deem that thou
Such anguish ever knew.
I have been but thy transient
flower,
Thou wert my god divine;
Till checked by death's
congealing power,
This heart must throb for
thine.
And well my dying hour were
blest,
If life's expiring breath
Should pass, as thy lips
gently prest
My forehead cold in death;
And sound my sleep would
be, and sweet,
Beneath the churchyard tree,
If sometimes in thy heart
should beat
One pulse, still true to
me. |