 | Poems |  |
168
[XXII.
O for a castle on a woodland height]
O for a castle on a woodland height!High mountains round, and a pure stream below,
Within all charms that tasteful hours invite,
Wise books of poesy and music's flow;—
A grassy lawn through which to course our steeds,
A gothic chapel in seclusion reared,
Where we could solace find for holiest needs,
And grow by mutual rites the more endeared:
How such captivity alone with thee
Would lift to Paradise each passing day!
Then all revealed my patient love would be,
And thou couldst not a full response delay:
For Truth makes holy Love's illusive dreams,
And their best promise constantly redeems.
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