 | Poems by a Painter |  |
37
BOY-LOVE.
There is a rose-embowered islet
In the ocean of my dreams,
Like some crimson cloud of twilight
That through ether swims;
So bright, so still! and dear to me,
Is this halcyon isle of Memory.
In the ocean of my dreams,
Like some crimson cloud of twilight
That through ether swims;
So bright, so still! and dear to me,
Is this halcyon isle of Memory.
Yet deem not that I love it so
For groves of palm or myrtle bowers,
Or limpid streams that ever flow
In music through a land of flowers.
No! what were scene, however fair,
If human love were wanting there!
For groves of palm or myrtle bowers,
Or limpid streams that ever flow
In music through a land of flowers.
No! what were scene, however fair,
If human love were wanting there!
38
But there the little brown-eyed maid
I dare not meet by day,
Flits like a bird from shade to shade,
And bird-like sings alway,
To guide me to the secret nest
That nightly screens our linkèd rest.
I dare not meet by day,
Flits like a bird from shade to shade,
And bird-like sings alway,
To guide me to the secret nest
That nightly screens our linkèd rest.
So, ever when the day goes down
Into the quiet deep,
By hope's delicious breath I'm blown,
In the silent bark of sleep,
Away, away to this phantom isle,
To bask in the light of her gentle smile.
Into the quiet deep,
By hope's delicious breath I'm blown,
In the silent bark of sleep,
Away, away to this phantom isle,
To bask in the light of her gentle smile.
| Poems by a Painter | |