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 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
206
LAMPS OF SILVER HANG ABOVE
Lamps of silver hang above me,
Shedding floods of rosy light,
And the looks of those who love me,
Chide my cold reserve to-night.
Leafy coronals are flinging
Round their gifts of odor sweet;
Vaulted roof and floor are ringing
With the fall of dancing feet.
While young Joy, with tress unbraided,
Charms with viol-note the ear,
Darkly is my forehead shaded—
Thou art not here!
Shedding floods of rosy light,
And the looks of those who love me,
Chide my cold reserve to-night.
Leafy coronals are flinging
Round their gifts of odor sweet;
Vaulted roof and floor are ringing
With the fall of dancing feet.
While young Joy, with tress unbraided,
Charms with viol-note the ear,
Darkly is my forehead shaded—
Thou art not here!
Often, often have I lifted
To my lip the cup of mirth,
When the beautiful and gifted
Crowded round the festal hearth.
Once this aching heart, of brighter,
Gayer feelings, was the shrine,
And no dancing foot fell lighter
In the mazy reel than mine.
Ruby lips are breathing gladness—
Eyes of fawn-like ray are near;
Why, then, is my brow all sadness?
Thou art not here!
To my lip the cup of mirth,
When the beautiful and gifted
Crowded round the festal hearth.
Once this aching heart, of brighter,
Gayer feelings, was the shrine,
And no dancing foot fell lighter
In the mazy reel than mine.
Ruby lips are breathing gladness—
Eyes of fawn-like ray are near;
Why, then, is my brow all sadness?
Thou art not here!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |