Poems by Speranza

by Lady Wilde

XIII.

Thank God, that no cruel scorning dimm'd his starry eyes divine,
Softly, tender, earnest gazing down the tearful depths of mine—
But with warmest splendours resting on the paleness of his cheek,
As the roseate tinted sunset on a snowy Alpine peak,
Bent he down upon my shoulder, murmuring loverlike and low,
While his breathing softly trembled on my pale lips lying so:—
"Ah! such deep and tender loving hath recall'd me from the grave—
And this heart with soft approving bids you keep the life you gave;