 | Lyrical Poems |  |
145
LOVELY DORA, HAST THOU SEEN?
Lovely Dora, hast thou seen
In the land of high-piled mountains,
When in the night a storm hath been,
A sudden gush of roaring fountains?
Down the gorge, all foaming white,
The rain-god leaps with rattling quiver,
The rill becomes a beck of might,
The beck becomes a rolling river.
In the land of high-piled mountains,
When in the night a storm hath been,
A sudden gush of roaring fountains?
Down the gorge, all foaming white,
The rain-god leaps with rattling quiver,
The rill becomes a beck of might,
The beck becomes a rolling river.
Dora, so my life did creep
In the narrow groove of duty,
Till thou didst come with queenly sweep,
And touched me with the power of beauty.
O then my soul gushed out with might,
A tide of buoyant joy upbore me!
All my thoughts were summer bright,
All my words were song before thee!
In the narrow groove of duty,
Till thou didst come with queenly sweep,
And touched me with the power of beauty.
146
A tide of buoyant joy upbore me!
All my thoughts were summer bright,
All my words were song before thee!
Lovely Dora, thou art gone,
But dwells with me thy beauteous presence;
Lives the seed which thou hast sown,
Germs the thought of joy and pleasance.
For I know thou art not far,
And the thought of thy great beauty
Turns to music every jar,
In the dull refrain of duty!
But dwells with me thy beauteous presence;
Lives the seed which thou hast sown,
Germs the thought of joy and pleasance.
For I know thou art not far,
And the thought of thy great beauty
Turns to music every jar,
In the dull refrain of duty!
| Lyrical Poems | |