 | Lyrical and other poems |  |
YOUNG GLORY IS SLEEPING
Young Glory is sleeping beside thee,
Oh! wake not the boy from his dream,
Or, the solace may then be denied thee,
Which now is thy heart's only beam.
Oh! wake not the boy from his dream,
Or, the solace may then be denied thee,
Which now is thy heart's only beam.
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Thou may'st kiss from his cheek as he slumbers,
The dews that are falling around;
And whisper—O! softly, the numbers,
That late so ecstatic he found.
The dews that are falling around;
And whisper—O! softly, the numbers,
That late so ecstatic he found.
But let him not wake from his vision,
And find his young lip press'd by thine;
For enjoyment is only Elysian,
Whil'st at distance we worship its shrine.
And find his young lip press'd by thine;
For enjoyment is only Elysian,
Whil'st at distance we worship its shrine.
That enjoyment no longer will capture,
Repetition but renders it same;
And the love lately worship'd with rapture,
Procured, becomes lifeless and tame.
Repetition but renders it same;
And the love lately worship'd with rapture,
Procured, becomes lifeless and tame.
Bind thy roses in gladness about him,
But touch not the deep blushing band,
Or, when thou can'st least do without him,
He may leave all its thorns in thy hand.
But touch not the deep blushing band,
Or, when thou can'st least do without him,
He may leave all its thorns in thy hand.
| Lyrical and other poems | |