Читать книгу The Blue Poetry Book - Lang Andrew, May Kendall - Страница 46

Thou wast all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine —

A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,

And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream, too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise

But to be overcast!

A voice from out the Future cries,

‘On! on!’ – but o’er the Past

(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies

Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me

The light of Life is o’er!

‘No more – no more – no more’ —

(Such language holds the solemn sea

To the sands upon the shore)

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,

Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams;

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams.