The poetical works of the late Thomas Little [i.e. Thomas Moore] The eleventh edition |
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AN ODE UPON MORNING. |
 | The poetical works of the late Thomas Little [i.e. Thomas Moore] |  |
105
AN ODE UPON MORNING.
Turn to me, love! the morning rays
Are glowing o'er thy languid charms;
Take one luxurious parting gaze,
While yet I linger in thine arms.
Are glowing o'er thy languid charms;
Take one luxurious parting gaze,
While yet I linger in thine arms.
'Twas long before the noon of night
I stole into thy bosom, dear!
And now the glance of dawning light
Has found me still in dalliance here.
I stole into thy bosom, dear!
And now the glance of dawning light
Has found me still in dalliance here.
Turn to me, love! the trembling gleams
Of morn along thy white neck stray;
Away, away, you envious beams,
I'll chase you with my lips away!
Of morn along thy white neck stray;
Away, away, you envious beams,
I'll chase you with my lips away!
106
Oh! is it not divine to think,—
While all around were lull'd in night,
While e'en the planets seem'd to wink,—
We kept our vigils of delight!
While all around were lull'd in night,
While e'en the planets seem'd to wink,—
We kept our vigils of delight!
The heart, that little world of ours,
Unlike the drowsy world of care,
Then, then awak'd its sweetest pow'rs,
And all was animation there!
Unlike the drowsy world of care,
Then, then awak'd its sweetest pow'rs,
And all was animation there!
Kiss me once more, and then I fly,
Our parting would to noon-day last;
There, close that languid trembling eye,
And sweetly dream of all the past!
Our parting would to noon-day last;
There, close that languid trembling eye,
And sweetly dream of all the past!
As soon as Night shall fix her seal
Upon the eyes and lips of men,
Oh, dearest! I will panting steal
To nestle in thine arms again!
Upon the eyes and lips of men,
Oh, dearest! I will panting steal
To nestle in thine arms again!
Our joys shall take their stolen flight,
Secret as those celestial spheres
Which make sweet music all the night,
Unheard by drowsy mortal ears!
Secret as those celestial spheres
Which make sweet music all the night,
Unheard by drowsy mortal ears!
| The poetical works of the late Thomas Little [i.e. Thomas Moore] | |