The Alhambra and Other Poems By F. B. Money-Coutts [i.e. F. B. T. Coutts-Nevill] |
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Pure Imagination |
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 | The Alhambra and Other Poems |  |
52
Pure Imagination
She lies in her little room
And all around her creep
The quietness and gloom
And the sacredness of sleep.
And all around her creep
The quietness and gloom
And the sacredness of sleep.
My spirit breaks the seals
Of jealous night's duress,
And close beside her steals
To watch her loveliness.
Of jealous night's duress,
And close beside her steals
To watch her loveliness.
There droops her flower-like head,
Petalled and rayed with curls!
An aster of golden-red
The leafage of night enfurls!
Petalled and rayed with curls!
An aster of golden-red
The leafage of night enfurls!
Ah me! She lies in her couch
Like a babe on its mother's breast;
And my spirit is fain to crouch
Back to its lone unrest.
Like a babe on its mother's breast;
And my spirit is fain to crouch
Back to its lone unrest.
| The Alhambra and Other Poems | |