 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
296
LOVE AND PRUDENCE.
Do you remember that most perfect night,
In the full flush of June,
When the wide heavens were tranced in silver light
Of the sad patient moon?
Silent we sat, awed by a strange unrest;
The fathomless, far sky
Our very life absorbed, our thoughts oppressed,
By its immensity.
In the full flush of June,
When the wide heavens were tranced in silver light
Of the sad patient moon?
Silent we sat, awed by a strange unrest;
The fathomless, far sky
Our very life absorbed, our thoughts oppressed,
By its immensity.
Lost in that infinite vast, how idle seemed
The best of human speech,
Earth scarcely breathed, so silently she dreamed,
Save when from some far reach
The faint wind sighed, and stirred the slumbering trees,
And shadowy stretch and plain
Seemed haunted by unuttered mysteries
Night on its life had lain.
The best of human speech,
Earth scarcely breathed, so silently she dreamed,
Save when from some far reach
The faint wind sighed, and stirred the slumbering trees,
And shadowy stretch and plain
Seemed haunted by unuttered mysteries
Night on its life had lain.
We knew not what we were, or where we went,
Borne by some unseen power,
Nor in what dream-shaped realms our spirits spent
That long, yet brief half hour;
I only know that, as a star from high
Slides down the ether thin
We shot to earth, roused by a startling cry,
“You 're getting cold—come in.”
Borne by some unseen power,
Nor in what dream-shaped realms our spirits spent
297
I only know that, as a star from high
Slides down the ether thin
We shot to earth, roused by a startling cry,
“You 're getting cold—come in.”
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |