 | Sonnets, Lyrics and Translations |  |
13
A BLUSH AT FAREWELL.
Her tears are all thine own! how blest thou art!Thine, too, the blush which no reserve can bind;
Thy farewell voice was as the stirring wind
That floats the rose-bloom; thou hast won her heart;
Dear are the hopes it ushers to thy breast;
She speaks not—but she gives her silent bond;
And thou may'st trust it, asking nought beyond
The promise, which as yet no words attest;
Deep in her bosom sinks the conscious glow,
And deep in thine! and I can well foresee,
If thou shalt feel a lover's jealousy
For her brief absence, what a ruling power
A byegone blush shall prove! until the hour
Of meeting, when thy next love-rose shall blow.
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