 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
A SERENADE
Peace, where my love reposes,
A shrine of slumber gray;
Let sleep repair her roses
Torn by the stress of day
Sleep, till orient skies
Misty peaks discover,
Calling back thy lover,
Where afar he lies,
Thy lonely lover.
A shrine of slumber gray;
Let sleep repair her roses
Torn by the stress of day
Sleep, till orient skies
Misty peaks discover,
Calling back thy lover,
Where afar he lies,
Thy lonely lover.
When will my love awaken,
And beam her light on me,
Like a mighty sunbeam shaken
On a dark and shuddering sea?
Drifts of fiery cloud
Round the mountain smoulder
Veils of sleep enfold her,
Like a rosy shroud
Around a rosy shoulder.
And beam her light on me,
Like a mighty sunbeam shaken
On a dark and shuddering sea?
Drifts of fiery cloud
Round the mountain smoulder
Veils of sleep enfold her,
Like a rosy shroud
Around a rosy shoulder.
Peace be thine and blessing,
A peace I cannot share,
In troubled dreams caressing
A phantom maid of air.
Melt out, old night, and pass,
And sow the mountain places
With tufted primrose faces;
Then bring the real lass
To my embraces.
A peace I cannot share,
In troubled dreams caressing
A phantom maid of air.
Melt out, old night, and pass,
And sow the mountain places
With tufted primrose faces;
Then bring the real lass
To my embraces.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |