 | The battle of Niagara |  |
TO ---.
'TIS true—I have not known thee long;
Yet I have worshipped—blamed—and loved thee;
For thou'rt so like a thing of song,
That I have dreamt of—ardent—young—
Changing with every thing that moved thee:
That I have dwelt upon thine eye,
So happy—clear—and mild—and blue,
'Till I have seen the loveliest sky!
Come down in a dissolving dye,
And drop with heaven—and light—and dew!
Yet I have worshipped—blamed—and loved thee;
For thou'rt so like a thing of song,
That I have dreamt of—ardent—young—
Changing with every thing that moved thee:
264
So happy—clear—and mild—and blue,
'Till I have seen the loveliest sky!
Come down in a dissolving dye,
And drop with heaven—and light—and dew!
At night I've prayed 'till I have wept,
To think what sorrows might beset thee;
While visions to my bosom crept,
'Till I forgot to breathe—and slept—
But—even in sleep—could not forget thee:
Again would come thy soft blue eye,
Melting again in light and love;
Again thy lip would change its dye,
My soul would leave my lip—and I,
Would wander in my dreams above:
Then heart—to heart—I'd meet thee, where,
A pure, transparent heaven was swelling—
I'd feel the floating of thy hair
Upon my breast—and kneel in prayer
With thee—with thee!—in thy blue dwelling.
To think what sorrows might beset thee;
While visions to my bosom crept,
'Till I forgot to breathe—and slept—
But—even in sleep—could not forget thee:
Again would come thy soft blue eye,
Melting again in light and love;
Again thy lip would change its dye,
My soul would leave my lip—and I,
Would wander in my dreams above:
Then heart—to heart—I'd meet thee, where,
A pure, transparent heaven was swelling—
I'd feel the floating of thy hair
Upon my breast—and kneel in prayer
With thee—with thee!—in thy blue dwelling.
But then—oh! we should never wake,
When dreams like these sing to our heart—
Nor ever, by one murmur, break
The charm that binds their wing—they take
Such long—long farewells when they part;
Bright one, adieu!—no hour is near,
When I may pour my thoughts to thee—
Thou'lt be my soul enchantment dear,
Yet will thou never know it here—
But some fresh day—some summer year,
In yon blue heaven, we'll both appear—
Just like my dreams—as pure—as free.
When dreams like these sing to our heart—
Nor ever, by one murmur, break
The charm that binds their wing—they take
Such long—long farewells when they part;
Bright one, adieu!—no hour is near,
When I may pour my thoughts to thee—
265
Yet will thou never know it here—
But some fresh day—some summer year,
In yon blue heaven, we'll both appear—
Just like my dreams—as pure—as free.
| The battle of Niagara | |