Duganne's Poetical Works Autograph edition. Seventy-five Copies |
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 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
263
THE DREAM OF THE TOMBSTONE.
LISTEN—Love of mine! O listen,
While thy dewy eyelids glisten:
Let me press thy snowy forehead
With a lover's holy kiss.
'Twas a dream, O gentle maiden!
When my heart with grief was laden—
Yet I pray that God may never
Send a vision like to this;
Never plunge my dreaming spirit
In so darksome an abyss.
While thy dewy eyelids glisten:
Let me press thy snowy forehead
With a lover's holy kiss.
'Twas a dream, O gentle maiden!
When my heart with grief was laden—
Yet I pray that God may never
Send a vision like to this;
Never plunge my dreaming spirit
In so darksome an abyss.
O! methought in this my dreaming,
That the icy moonlight, gleaming
On my bosom, white and naked,
Did its ghastliness illume;
That my heart no more was beating,
And the tide of life, retreating,
Left me like a sculptur'd tablet,
Like a cold and marble tomb—
Like a column, white and solemn,
In the ghostly graveyard's gloom.
That the icy moonlight, gleaming
On my bosom, white and naked,
Did its ghastliness illume;
That my heart no more was beating,
And the tide of life, retreating,
Left me like a sculptur'd tablet,
Like a cold and marble tomb—
Like a column, white and solemn,
In the ghostly graveyard's gloom.
264
Love of mine! oh! press me nearer—
Let mine eyes thy love-look mirror—
Let me feel thy heart's low beating
Fondly echoing mine own;
Give my heart the blest assurance
That my dreaming soul's endurance
Was a phantom of the midnight,
From the holy morning flown;
Let thy murmured blessing tell me
Thou art mine, and mine alone!
Let mine eyes thy love-look mirror—
Let me feel thy heart's low beating
Fondly echoing mine own;
Give my heart the blest assurance
That my dreaming soul's endurance
Was a phantom of the midnight,
From the holy morning flown;
Let thy murmured blessing tell me
Thou art mine, and mine alone!
Coldly streamed the moonbeam o'er me,
And a new-made grave before me
Lay, in loneliness and silence,
With its withered flow'rets spread,
And a myrtle wreath was braided
Round the willow, shrunk and faded,
That, with melancholy motion,
Waved above the grassy bed;
Like a solemn priest at midnight,
Swinging censers o'er the dead!
And a new-made grave before me
Lay, in loneliness and silence,
With its withered flow'rets spread,
And a myrtle wreath was braided
Round the willow, shrunk and faded,
That, with melancholy motion,
Waved above the grassy bed;
Like a solemn priest at midnight,
Swinging censers o'er the dead!
Then methought that, fair and beaming,
Thou didst come, in radiant seeming,
From the shadowy groups of cypress
That around the church-yard grew;
But another's arm was round thee,
And another's love had bound thee;
And to him who loved thee only
Was thy soul no longer true!
Then I felt my heart was breaking
As to me ye nearer drew.
Thou didst come, in radiant seeming,
From the shadowy groups of cypress
That around the church-yard grew;
265
And another's love had bound thee;
And to him who loved thee only
Was thy soul no longer true!
Then I felt my heart was breaking
As to me ye nearer drew.
Clasp me closer, loved and dearest!
'Tis a dream that now thou hearest,
Yet my heart with fear is trembling
As its memory I recall!
Though thine eyes are on me shining—
Though thine arms my neck are twining,
And thy murmured words of blessing
On my heart like music fall,
Yet the memory of that vision
Shrouds me like an icy pall.
'Tis a dream that now thou hearest,
Yet my heart with fear is trembling
As its memory I recall!
Though thine eyes are on me shining—
Though thine arms my neck are twining,
And thy murmured words of blessing
On my heart like music fall,
Yet the memory of that vision
Shrouds me like an icy pall.
Thou and he whose arm upheld thee,
Thou and he whose love had spelled thee,
Stood together in the moonlight
That revealed my marble breast—
And, with lips that faltered never,
Thou didst swear to love forever
Him who stood in pride beside thee,
With his arms around thee prest;
While beneath, all cold and silent,
Lay the one who loved thee best.
Thou and he whose love had spelled thee,
Stood together in the moonlight
That revealed my marble breast—
And, with lips that faltered never,
Thou didst swear to love forever
Him who stood in pride beside thee,
With his arms around thee prest;
While beneath, all cold and silent,
Lay the one who loved thee best.
266
Love of mine! this dream of terror,
God be thanked! is naught but error;
Yet its memory oft hath darkened,
Like a cloud, my sunny heart;
For its phantom thoughts betoken
How that heart, all crushed and broken,
Would be like the marble tombstone,
Should thy gentle love depart—
And the cypress round my myrtle
From the grave of hope would start!
God be thanked! is naught but error;
Yet its memory oft hath darkened,
Like a cloud, my sunny heart;
For its phantom thoughts betoken
How that heart, all crushed and broken,
Would be like the marble tombstone,
Should thy gentle love depart—
And the cypress round my myrtle
From the grave of hope would start!
| Duganne's Poetical Works | |