 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
125
XI.
[Soft lights on sleeping meadows, the first cry]
Soft lights on sleeping meadows, the first cryOf birds that break the hallow'd hush of dawn,
Or leaping of white waves, or windy sky,
With many a bold cloud-gesture over-drawn,
Bright forest-glades, where springs the fearful fawn,
And quiet noises all day long surprise,
Laughter of sudden brook, or silent eyes
Cluster'd in heaven, or wandering moon forlorn—
If each of these with rare and several grace
Do sometimes win my very heart away,
Oh! how to tell of her, in whose sweet face
I count their sum of sweetness every day,
And know each smile, each look of love, I see,
Is true as heaven, and all for only me?
| Poems by James Rhoades | |