Poems By William Bell Scott |
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148
2
WATCHMAN.The breeze awakens and the clouds
Scatter dimly overhead,
Trees, and streams and paths appear;
Thy spell, sir knight is sped.
KNIGHT.
Watchman I would tarry until
The kindly brightening east
Shows me once more the face that lights
The shrine whereof I'm priest.
Lady, it may be Lent again
Or ever our voices meet,
Ere I may hold thy hand as now
Through thy little bower window, sweet!
LADY.
Good sir, the daily even-song
Shall bear me back to thee,
While each adventuring helm shall seem
To speak brave thoughts to me.
149
A silent summer's day;
The sun goeth slowly over heaven,
But endeth cheerfully.
| Poems | |