 | Dryburgh Abbey and other poems |  |
68
A LOVE-DREAM.
By the village hawthorn seated
Waits a village maiden fair;
In her ear are sounds repeated
She hath heard elsewhere.
Why hath happiness such fleetness,
Wings that never rest?
When did memory's words of sweetness
Dwell in sweeter breast?
Waits a village maiden fair;
In her ear are sounds repeated
She hath heard elsewhere.
Why hath happiness such fleetness,
Wings that never rest?
When did memory's words of sweetness
Dwell in sweeter breast?
Lonely lies the field before her
In the twilight hour,
Yet the face of her adorer
Smiles from leaf and flower.
Inward is her loving vision,
Inward lists she to her heart;
In a world of thought Elysian,
Where time has no part.
In the twilight hour,
Yet the face of her adorer
Smiles from leaf and flower.
Inward is her loving vision,
Inward lists she to her heart;
In a world of thought Elysian,
Where time has no part.
Lost in dreams of tender feeling,
She forgets her cottage birth;
Lost in all love's fond revealing,
She is far from earth.
Truly but she dreameth greatly,
Nobly doth the maiden fare;
She is in a mansion stately
Wedded lady to the heir!
She forgets her cottage birth;
Lost in all love's fond revealing,
She is far from earth.
Truly but she dreameth greatly,
Nobly doth the maiden fare;
She is in a mansion stately
Wedded lady to the heir!
69
Wake her not—too soon love waketh—
Soon is lost its world of dreams;
Like a golden bubble, breaketh
All that most enduring seems!
Brighter heaven her soul is seeing
In her trance than aught above;
Lost the whole of outward being
In the inward life of love!
Soon is lost its world of dreams;
Like a golden bubble, breaketh
All that most enduring seems!
Brighter heaven her soul is seeing
In her trance than aught above;
Lost the whole of outward being
In the inward life of love!
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