 | The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems |  |
THOU ART THE SUMMER.
Oh, love! thou art the summer; thy sweet breast
Is summer in its softest, tenderest glow:—
Oh! what are lilies to thy neck of snow?
The bosom wherein all my pain I rest,
Soothed past all speaking, infinitely blest!
Delivered now from every dart of woe
And tribulation:—yea, sweet, kiss me so—
Now blush again, shaming the blushing west!
Is summer in its softest, tenderest glow:—
Oh! what are lilies to thy neck of snow?
The bosom wherein all my pain I rest,
Soothed past all speaking, infinitely blest!
Delivered now from every dart of woe
And tribulation:—yea, sweet, kiss me so—
Now blush again, shaming the blushing west!
Thou art the summer; mine eternal rose
Thou art of heavenly summers yet unseen—
Bear thou thy love-soft sceptre, O my queen!
Thy more than regal beauty now disclose;
Sway all my pulses with imperial sway,
A white moon moving my heart's tidal way.
Thou art of heavenly summers yet unseen—
Bear thou thy love-soft sceptre, O my queen!
Thy more than regal beauty now disclose;
Sway all my pulses with imperial sway,
A white moon moving my heart's tidal way.
| The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems | |