 | Poems Lyrical and Dramatic |  |
159
AFTER-THOUGHT.
A day's delight becomes the dream of years,
Like furrows left of unforgotten streams,
By whose abandoned path the spirit hears
Like furrows left of unforgotten streams,
By whose abandoned path the spirit hears
Their former voice as music heard in dreams,
And sees their thronging ripples, for they made
The wilderness to blossom, and it seems
And sees their thronging ripples, for they made
The wilderness to blossom, and it seems
To blossom with their memory, arrayed
In light and laughter; so on this faint breast
A cherished bloom abides which may not fade
In light and laughter; so on this faint breast
A cherished bloom abides which may not fade
Though leafless, and its perfume fills my rest,
Instilling drop for drop with opiate sleep
Keen love into the panting heart oppressed
Instilling drop for drop with opiate sleep
Keen love into the panting heart oppressed
On which it lies like sea-moss on the deep—
And yet no rose it is, but one past hour,
Which like a frightened dove delights to creep
And yet no rose it is, but one past hour,
Which like a frightened dove delights to creep
160
Close up to me, and nestling down to cower
All trembling in my bosom: and I feel
A seraph winged in Heaven, or as a flower
All trembling in my bosom: and I feel
A seraph winged in Heaven, or as a flower
May feel when sun and rain alternate seal
Her petals in sweet slumber, question-wrought
If o'er another's soul such glory steal.—
Her petals in sweet slumber, question-wrought
If o'er another's soul such glory steal.—
And thou, my dream's companion, nightly brought
By slumber's winged minions to my side,
Deem not that in the echo of my thought
By slumber's winged minions to my side,
Deem not that in the echo of my thought
The voice of our past joy may be belied
With shade of sorrow: rather it returns
Subdued and softened, stilled and sanctified.
With shade of sorrow: rather it returns
Subdued and softened, stilled and sanctified.
Nay, by its after-thought all pleasure learns
Its value, and for that sweet kiss though past
Not every world that in night's concourse burns
Its value, and for that sweet kiss though past
Not every world that in night's concourse burns
Were recompense.—I hold my treasure fast
Till old delight by new be banished and surpassed.
Till old delight by new be banished and surpassed.
| Poems Lyrical and Dramatic | |