 | Plays and poems |  |
364
[Wheel on thy axle, softly run]
Wheel on thy axle, softly run,
Dark earth, into the golden day!
Rise from the burnished east, bright sun,
And chase the scowling night away!
Dark earth, into the golden day!
Rise from the burnished east, bright sun,
And chase the scowling night away!
Touch my love's eyelids; gently break
The tender dream she dreams of me,
With flowery odors; round her shake
The swallow's morning minstrelsy.
The tender dream she dreams of me,
With flowery odors; round her shake
The swallow's morning minstrelsy.
Tell her how, through the lonely dark,
Her lover sighed with sleepless pain;
And heard the watch-dog's hollow bark,
And heard the sobbing of the rain.
Her lover sighed with sleepless pain;
And heard the watch-dog's hollow bark,
And heard the sobbing of the rain.
Tell her he waits, with listening ear,
Beside the way that skirts her door;
And till her radiant face appear,
He shall not think the night is o'er.
Beside the way that skirts her door;
And till her radiant face appear,
He shall not think the night is o'er.
| Plays and poems | |