 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
SONG FROM HEINE
I scanned her picture, dreaming,
Till each dear line and hue
Was imaged, to my seeming,
As if it lived anew.
Till each dear line and hue
Was imaged, to my seeming,
As if it lived anew.
Her lips began to borrow
Their former wondrous smile;
Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow,
Grew sparkling as erstwhile.
Their former wondrous smile;
Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow,
Grew sparkling as erstwhile.
Such tears as often ran not
Ran then, my love, for thee;
And O, believe I cannot
That thou art lost to me!
Ran then, my love, for thee;
And O, believe I cannot
That thou art lost to me!
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |