 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
SPEECHLESS
O thou fire-edged cloudlet
Brimming o'er with light!
Like my heart thou hangest
'Twixt the day and night.
Brimming o'er with light!
Like my heart thou hangest
'Twixt the day and night.
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Silently thou hangest,
Seemingly at rest,
Yet there is strange tumult
Boiling in thy breast.
Seemingly at rest,
Yet there is strange tumult
Boiling in thy breast.
O my heart o'er-brimming
With burning thought of her,
Could'st thou only speak it,
How her heart must stir!
With burning thought of her,
Could'st thou only speak it,
How her heart must stir!
But my love is surging,
Like the hurrying wave
Breaking on the silence
Of the dripping cave;
Like the hurrying wave
Breaking on the silence
Of the dripping cave;
Breaking on the silence
Of the tangled shelf,
And falling back in foam-bells
Still upon itself.
Of the tangled shelf,
And falling back in foam-bells
Still upon itself.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |