 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE BETRAYAL.
Tell me when the stars are flashing
In the northern sky so blue,
Or when morning's tender crimson
Sweetly burns among the dew,
Comes there no reproachful whisper
From the mornings and the eves,
When Hope's white buds into beauty
Opened like the faint young leaves?
In the northern sky so blue,
Or when morning's tender crimson
Sweetly burns among the dew,
Comes there no reproachful whisper
From the mornings and the eves,
When Hope's white buds into beauty
Opened like the faint young leaves?
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Ay, thou feel'st, despite thy silence—
That betrayal burns thy cheek;
Even to Love's forgiving bosom
There be thoughts thou canst not speak!
From the roses of that bridal,
The dark price of nameless woe,
Thou mayst not unbind the curses
Till thy last of suns is low!
That betrayal burns thy cheek;
Even to Love's forgiving bosom
There be thoughts thou canst not speak!
From the roses of that bridal,
The dark price of nameless woe,
Thou mayst not unbind the curses
Till thy last of suns is low!
Lost and broken is the music
That with beauty filled the night,—
Melted from the frozen branches
Are the frost-stars glistening bright,—
When a maid with trembling bosom
Watched a ne'er returning steed,
Cleaving through the silver shadows,
On and on, his shaft-like speed!
That with beauty filled the night,—
Melted from the frozen branches
Are the frost-stars glistening bright,—
When a maid with trembling bosom
Watched a ne'er returning steed,
Cleaving through the silver shadows,
On and on, his shaft-like speed!
Faint against the ringing pavement,
Fainter still the hoof-strokes beat;
Scarcely can she tell the shimmer
Of the flint-sparks from the sleet.
Years are gone: the village hilltops
Redden with the sunset's glow;
With a lap all bright with blossoms
Still the summers come and go.
Fainter still the hoof-strokes beat;
Scarcely can she tell the shimmer
Of the flint-sparks from the sleet.
Years are gone: the village hilltops
Redden with the sunset's glow;
With a lap all bright with blossoms
Still the summers come and go.
With a cheek grown thinner, whiter,
And the dark locks put away
From a brow of patient beauty,
Dwells the maiden of my lay—
Dwells she where the peaceful shadow
Of her native hills is thrown,
Binding up the wounds of others
All the better for her own.
And the dark locks put away
From a brow of patient beauty,
Dwells the maiden of my lay—
Dwells she where the peaceful shadow
Of her native hills is thrown,
Binding up the wounds of others
All the better for her own.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |