 | Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne |  |
THE WINTER WINDS MAY WILDLY RAVE.
The winter winds may wildly rave,
How wildly o'er thy place of rest!
But, love! thou hast a holier grave,
Deep in a faithful human breast.
How wildly o'er thy place of rest!
But, love! thou hast a holier grave,
Deep in a faithful human breast.
There, the embalmer, Memory, bends,
Watching, with softly-breathed sighs,
The mystic light her genius lends
To fadeless cheeks and tender eyes.
Watching, with softly-breathed sighs,
The mystic light her genius lends
To fadeless cheeks and tender eyes.
There in a fathomless calm, serene,
Thy beauty keeps its saintly trace,
The radiance of an angel mien,
The rapture of a heavenly grace.
Thy beauty keeps its saintly trace,
The radiance of an angel mien,
The rapture of a heavenly grace.
And there, O gentlest love! remain
(No stormy passion round thee raves),
Till, soul to soul, we meet again,
Beyond this ghostly realm of graves.
(No stormy passion round thee raves),
Till, soul to soul, we meet again,
Beyond this ghostly realm of graves.
| Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | |