Poems of Nathaniel Parker Willis . with a memoir of the author |
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TO ERMENGARDE. |
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 | Poems of Nathaniel Parker Willis . |  |
246
TO ERMENGARDE.
I know not if the sunshine waste—
The world is dark since thou art gone!
The hours are, oh! so leaden-paced!
The birds sing, and the stars float on,
But sing not well, and look not fair—
A weight is in the summer air,
And sadness in the sight of flowers;
And if I go where others smile,
Their love but makes me think of ours,
And heavier gets my heart the while.
Like one upon a desert isle,
I languish of the weary hours;
I never thought a life could be
So flung upon one hope, as mine, dear love, on thee!
The world is dark since thou art gone!
The hours are, oh! so leaden-paced!
The birds sing, and the stars float on,
But sing not well, and look not fair—
A weight is in the summer air,
And sadness in the sight of flowers;
And if I go where others smile,
Their love but makes me think of ours,
And heavier gets my heart the while.
Like one upon a desert isle,
I languish of the weary hours;
I never thought a life could be
So flung upon one hope, as mine, dear love, on thee!
I sit and watch the summer sky.
There comes a cloud through heaven alone;
A thousand stars are shining nigh—
It feels no light, but darkles on!
Yet now it nears the lovelier moon;
And, flushing through its fringe of snow,
There steals a rosier dye, and soon
Its bosom is one fiery glow!
The Queen of Light within it lies!
Yet mark how lovers meet to part!
The cloud already onward flies,
And shadows sink into its heart,
And (dost thou see them where thou art?)
Fade fast, fade all those glorious dyes!
Its light, like mine, is seen no more,
And, like my own, its heart seems darker than before!
There comes a cloud through heaven alone;
A thousand stars are shining nigh—
It feels no light, but darkles on!
Yet now it nears the lovelier moon;
And, flushing through its fringe of snow,
There steals a rosier dye, and soon
Its bosom is one fiery glow!
The Queen of Light within it lies!
247
The cloud already onward flies,
And shadows sink into its heart,
And (dost thou see them where thou art?)
Fade fast, fade all those glorious dyes!
Its light, like mine, is seen no more,
And, like my own, its heart seems darker than before!
Where press this hour those fairy feet?
Where look this hour those eyes of blue?
What music in thine ear is sweet?
What odor breathes thy lattice through?
What word is on thy lip? what tone—
What look—replying to thine own?
Thy steps along the Danube stray—
Alas! it seeks an orient sea!
Thou wouldst not seem so far away
Flow'd but its waters back to me!
I bless the slowly coming moon
Because its eye look'd late in thine!
I envy the west wind of June
Whose wings will bear it up the Rhine;
The flower I press upon my brow
Were sweeter if its like perfumed thy chamber now!
Where look this hour those eyes of blue?
What music in thine ear is sweet?
What odor breathes thy lattice through?
What word is on thy lip? what tone—
What look—replying to thine own?
Thy steps along the Danube stray—
Alas! it seeks an orient sea!
Thou wouldst not seem so far away
Flow'd but its waters back to me!
I bless the slowly coming moon
Because its eye look'd late in thine!
I envy the west wind of June
Whose wings will bear it up the Rhine;
The flower I press upon my brow
Were sweeter if its like perfumed thy chamber now!
| Poems of Nathaniel Parker Willis . | |