 | At the holy well |  |
91
THROUGH A WINDOW PANE.
[A Winter Memory.]
That bright December morning,
Playfully, by the pane,
She lingered;—for ever blossom,
Sweet morning, in heart and brain!
Playfully, by the pane,
She lingered;—for ever blossom,
Sweet morning, in heart and brain!
With arch farewell she lingered,
Her face through the frost-bloom bright,
Smiling;—like frost-bloom vanished
That vision into the light.
Her face through the frost-bloom bright,
Smiling;—like frost-bloom vanished
That vision into the light.
For ever and ever, smiling,
To me it comes again:
Within my soul the picture
Looks through my heart—the pane!
To me it comes again:
Within my soul the picture
Looks through my heart—the pane!
| At the holy well | |