 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
Methinks I hear the throb of wings
And feel the stir of an immortal breath
Thrilling the restful air. My prayer is heard:
A soft hand sweeps across my burning lips
And the fierce agony of ceaseless pain
Fades from my spirit. Thanks, sweet goddess, thanks!
Thou hast not all forgotten and I go
To drink oblivion from the sluggish flood.
Thanks, thanks! My soul slips swiftly from the world,
Freed from the trammels that did fetter it
To life. I smell the lilies of the dead
And hear dull Lethe gurgle through her weeds.
And feel the stir of an immortal breath
Thrilling the restful air. My prayer is heard:
399
And the fierce agony of ceaseless pain
Fades from my spirit. Thanks, sweet goddess, thanks!
Thou hast not all forgotten and I go
To drink oblivion from the sluggish flood.
Thanks, thanks! My soul slips swiftly from the world,
Freed from the trammels that did fetter it
To life. I smell the lilies of the dead
And hear dull Lethe gurgle through her weeds.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |