 | At the holy well |  |
92
AT MORNING.
The fragrant hush of morning hour
Clings to the earth. This tender flower
Clings to my window, drowned in dew;—
Last night I parted, Dear, from you!
Clings to the earth. This tender flower
Clings to my window, drowned in dew;—
Last night I parted, Dear, from you!
I go into the world again:
Time's wings are slow; the cruel train
Has wings too fleet—ah, if it knew,
Last night I parted, Dear, from you!
Time's wings are slow; the cruel train
Has wings too fleet—ah, if it knew,
Last night I parted, Dear, from you!
Quick dust arises in the street:
Familiar faces passing greet;—
The moonlight's shadow-blossoms knew,
Last night, I parted, Dear, from you.
Familiar faces passing greet;—
The moonlight's shadow-blossoms knew,
Last night, I parted, Dear, from you.
| At the holy well | |