 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
138
X.
Happy are they who kiss thee, morn and even,Parting the hair upon thy forehead white:
For them the sky is bluer and more bright,
And purer their thanksgivings rise to Heaven.
Happy are they to whom thy songs are given;
Happy are they on whom thy hands alight:
And happiest they for whom thy prayers at night
In tender piety so oft have striven.
Away with vain regrets and selfish sighs—
Even I, dear friend, am lonely, not unblest:
Permitted sometimes on that form to gaze,
Or feel the light of those consoling eyes:
If but a moment on my cheek it stays
I know that gentle beam from all the rest!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |