’Tis deeper, sweeter,
Than on a rose-bank to lie dreaming
With folded eye; 15
And then alone, amid the beaming
Of love’s stars, thou’lt meet her
In Eastern sky.
Thomas Lovell Beddoes.
CCXXXII
LINES WRITTEN IN MY OWN ALBUM.
Fresh clad from heaven in robes of white,
A young probationer of light,