 | Lyrics (1895) |  |
159
CONTENT
Sweet tranquil days of measured bliss,
I blame your softness, half afraid
Yet half ashamed to seem to miss
Your morning sun, your evening shade.
I blame your softness, half afraid
Yet half ashamed to seem to miss
Your morning sun, your evening shade.
I think that when alone, perplexed,
I shudder through some dreary night,
'Twill add new sorrow to be vexed
By mocking ghosts of past delight.
I shudder through some dreary night,
'Twill add new sorrow to be vexed
By mocking ghosts of past delight.
Shame on the morbid hearts that call
Security our chiefest foe;—
The plums grow big along my wall,
And take no thought of how they grow.
Security our chiefest foe;—
The plums grow big along my wall,
And take no thought of how they grow.
160
Indifferent whether mortal lips
Unthankful suck their honeyed gold,
Or if the hornèd woodsnail sips
Their sweetness, tumbled on the mould.
Unthankful suck their honeyed gold,
Or if the hornèd woodsnail sips
Their sweetness, tumbled on the mould.
| Lyrics (1895) | |