 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
793
THE LOST LORD.
He clasps me in a husband's arms,
And gives me many a kiss,
He praises me and pets my charms,
Yet him I seem to miss;
I lie unsleeping by his side,
On our dear nuptial bed,
While, severed as by ocean wide,
His spirit far hath fled;
For, though the loving lips may sigh,
The soul doth not confess,
And he himself is never nigh,
And cold seems each caress.
And gives me many a kiss,
He praises me and pets my charms,
Yet him I seem to miss;
I lie unsleeping by his side,
On our dear nuptial bed,
While, severed as by ocean wide,
His spirit far hath fled;
For, though the loving lips may sigh,
The soul doth not confess,
And he himself is never nigh,
And cold seems each caress.
He loved me once, his noble brow—
As blossoms turn to light—
For ever followed me, but now
He seeks some other sight;
We sit together at our meals,
We mix in social throngs,
Our voices blend, but all reveals
A discord in the songs;
Nor do we oft take different parts
In pleasure or in toys,
Though yawns a gulf between our hearts,
That saps the sweetest joys.
As blossoms turn to light—
For ever followed me, but now
He seeks some other sight;
We sit together at our meals,
We mix in social throngs,
Our voices blend, but all reveals
A discord in the songs;
Nor do we oft take different parts
In pleasure or in toys,
Though yawns a gulf between our hearts,
That saps the sweetest joys.
And when affection turns to him,
Where it would ever stay,
I know, if outward signs be dim,
His own is far away;
He duly drives me round the Park,
He duly walks with me,
And will to faintest whisper hark,
But still it is not he;
Our likings do not rudely rub,
He visits only where
I visit, not in any club,
And yet he is not there.
Where it would ever stay,
I know, if outward signs be dim,
His own is far away;
He duly drives me round the Park,
He duly walks with me,
And will to faintest whisper hark,
But still it is not he;
Our likings do not rudely rub,
He visits only where
I visit, not in any club,
And yet he is not there.
He brings me presents every day,
And makes my boudoir sweet
With summer flowers, but what are they,
When spirits do not meet?
The light that sparkled in his look,
And sparkled but for me,
Read clearly as in open book,
I now no longer see;
Though not by doom of cruel sword,
And not in darkness blind,
Have I not lost my dearest lord,
And shall I ever find?
And makes my boudoir sweet
With summer flowers, but what are they,
When spirits do not meet?
The light that sparkled in his look,
And sparkled but for me,
Read clearly as in open book,
I now no longer see;
Though not by doom of cruel sword,
And not in darkness blind,
Have I not lost my dearest lord,
And shall I ever find?
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |