 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
92
SONG BE OURS.
I.
Oh! Song be ours, though flyingThe rapture ever be;
For, wooing and winning and dying
Are aye the destiny.
Beauties, that now enkindle,
And glory that now upsprings,
Still, ere the daylight, dwindle
Into mere mortal things.
Yet, who would scorn the treasure,
For that in use it flies?
Song be ours, and pleasure,
Though in very budding it dies!
II.
Zephyrs of light have shakenFrom off their golden wings,
Odors, but lately taken
From the depth of Sonora's springs.
Tampa's flowers have given
Sweets, that, even as they fall,
Make us still fancy that Heaven
Hath somewhere a blessing for all!
Oh! moments wing'd and gilded,
Ye will all too soon have pass'd:
Souls of Love, be yielded,
Now, while your raptures last!
93
III.
Hark! the song ascending,Kindles the dreaming heart,
Till, with Love's own phrenzy blending,
Tears, all of rapture, start!
Oh! never count you the minute,
As a minute already known,
Till all the joy that's in it
Is certainly made your own?
He who mid life's young flowers,
Wrapt in delight like this,
Stops to measure the hours,
Was never decreed for bliss.
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |