The Harp of Erin Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes |
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THE DREAM. |
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 | The Harp of Erin |  |
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THE DREAM.
Fly, airy envoy of delight,
To my Anthemoë's pillow fly;
Press her pure forehead's veiny white,
Or flutter in her closing eye.
To my Anthemoë's pillow fly;
Press her pure forehead's veiny white,
Or flutter in her closing eye.
Oh! softly wave thy downy wing,
Lest thou too rudely break her rest;
Thy opiate dews, oh! gently fling,
For Peace resides within her breast.
Lest thou too rudely break her rest;
Thy opiate dews, oh! gently fling,
For Peace resides within her breast.
And shouldst thou deign to hear my pray'r,
A lover's pray'r devoutly warm,
Bid the pale shadow of Despair
Each night assume my faded form.
A lover's pray'r devoutly warm,
Bid the pale shadow of Despair
Each night assume my faded form.
With visionary pencil paint
The downcast look of hopeless woe;
Drooping, disconsolately faint,
O'er murder'd hope's expiring glow.
The downcast look of hopeless woe;
Drooping, disconsolately faint,
O'er murder'd hope's expiring glow.
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Fix on my cheeks th' eternal tear,
And banish far each soothing smile;
Let that dull blank no dimple wear,
Unceasing anguish to beguile.
And banish far each soothing smile;
Let that dull blank no dimple wear,
Unceasing anguish to beguile.
Like the sere leaf on Autumn's brow,
Let thy dark tint embrown my face;
My furrow'd front let sickness plough,
And crush each bloom of youthful grace.
Let thy dark tint embrown my face;
My furrow'd front let sickness plough,
And crush each bloom of youthful grace.
So shall thy powerful spell pourtray
The secret torture of my mind;
And sorrow only seen by day,
Still in thy shape remain behind.
The secret torture of my mind;
And sorrow only seen by day,
Still in thy shape remain behind.
| The Harp of Erin | |