Lady!—afar yet loved the more—
My spirit ever hovers near,
And haunts in dreams the distant shore
That prints at eve thy footstep dear.
And say—when musing by the tide,
Beneath the quiet twilight sky,
Wilt thou forget all earth beside
And mark my memory with a sigh?
The wind that wantons in thy hair—
The wave that murmurs at thy feet,
Shall whisper to thy dreaming ear
An answer—loving—true and meet.
Oh! fancy not if from thy bower
I tarry now a weary while,
My heart e'er owns another's power
Or sighs to win a stranger's smile.
Those gentle eyes, which in my dream,
With unforgotten love still shine—
Shall never glance a sadder beam
Nor dim with tears for change of mine.
I gaze not on a cloud, nor flower
That is not eloquent of thee—
The very calm of twilight's hour
Seems voiceless with thy memory.
Like waves that dimple o'er the stream
And ripple to the shores around,
Each wandering wish—each hope—each dream
Steals unto thee—their utmost bound.
Oh! think of me when day light dies
Among the far Hesperian bowers—
But most of all 'neath silent skies,
When weep the stars o'er earth's dim flowers.
When the mysterious holiness
Which spell-like lulls the silent air,
Steals to the heart with power to bless,
And hallows every feeling there. |