 | Poems by George P. Morris |  |
105
STARLIGHT RECOLLECTIONS.
'T was night. Near the murmuring Saône,
We met with no witnesses by,
But such as resplendently shone
In the blue-tinted vault of the sky:
Your head on my bosom was laid,
As you said you would ever be mine;
And I promised to love, dearest maid,
And worship alone at your shrine.
We met with no witnesses by,
But such as resplendently shone
In the blue-tinted vault of the sky:
Your head on my bosom was laid,
As you said you would ever be mine;
And I promised to love, dearest maid,
And worship alone at your shrine.
Your love on my heart gently fell
As the dew on the flowers at eve,
Whose bosoms with gratitude swell,
A blessing to give and receive:
And I knew by the glow on your cheek,
And the rapture you could not control,
No power had language to speak
The faith or content of your soul.
As the dew on the flowers at eve,
Whose bosoms with gratitude swell,
A blessing to give and receive:
And I knew by the glow on your cheek,
And the rapture you could not control,
No power had language to speak
The faith or content of your soul.
I love you as none ever loved—
As the steel to the star I am true;
And I, dearest maiden, have proved
That none ever loved me but you.
Till memory loses her power,
Or the sands of existence have run,
I'll remember the star-lighted hour
That mingled two hearts into one.
As the steel to the star I am true;
And I, dearest maiden, have proved
That none ever loved me but you.
106
Or the sands of existence have run,
I'll remember the star-lighted hour
That mingled two hearts into one.
| Poems by George P. Morris | |