 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
THE MAIDEN TO HER REJECTED LOVER.
My heart is with its early dream; it cannot turn away
To seek again the joys of earth, and mingle with the gay:
The dew-nursed flower that lifts its brow beneath the shades of night,
Must wither when the sunbeam sheds its too resplendent light.
To seek again the joys of earth, and mingle with the gay:
The dew-nursed flower that lifts its brow beneath the shades of night,
Must wither when the sunbeam sheds its too resplendent light.
My heart is with its early dream; and vainly love's soft power
Would seek to charm that heart anew, in some unguarded hour.
I would not that some gentle one should hear my frequent sigh:
The deer that bears its death-wound turns in loneliness to die.
Would seek to charm that heart anew, in some unguarded hour.
I would not that some gentle one should hear my frequent sigh:
The deer that bears its death-wound turns in loneliness to die.
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My heart is with its early dream; I cannot now forget
The fantasy whose faded light illumes my spirit yet:
The summer sun may sink at once beneath the western main,
But long upon heaven's dark'ning brow the clouds his light retain.
The fantasy whose faded light illumes my spirit yet:
The summer sun may sink at once beneath the western main,
But long upon heaven's dark'ning brow the clouds his light retain.
My heart is with its early dream; yet there are moments still
When, like a pulse within my soul, I feel joy's transient thrill;
For never can I hear unmoved the words of friendship spoken:
The blast that rends the wind-god's harp may leave one string unbroken.
When, like a pulse within my soul, I feel joy's transient thrill;
For never can I hear unmoved the words of friendship spoken:
The blast that rends the wind-god's harp may leave one string unbroken.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |