 | Poems by Rose Terry |  |
51
THERE.
“La-bas! la-bas! sous la verdure!”
Oh! if I were buried,
Love, thy sweetness could not leave me,
Nor thy smile, false Hope, deceive me,
Neither joy nor terror grieve me
There.
Love, thy sweetness could not leave me,
Nor thy smile, false Hope, deceive me,
Neither joy nor terror grieve me
There.
Oh that I were buried!
Grass above mine eyelids growing,
Overhead the wild winds blowing,
Peacefully the slow years flowing,
There.
Grass above mine eyelids growing,
Overhead the wild winds blowing,
Peacefully the slow years flowing,
There.
Oh! if I were buried,
Then my heart were filled forever,
Throbbing pulses cease to quiver,
Cooled in rapture's tranquil river,
There.
Then my heart were filled forever,
Throbbing pulses cease to quiver,
Cooled in rapture's tranquil river,
There.
52
Oh that I were buried!
Never any wearied dreaming,
No more night and no more seeming,
Truth's eternal splendor beaming,
There.
Never any wearied dreaming,
No more night and no more seeming,
Truth's eternal splendor beaming,
There.
Oh! if I were buried,
They who leave me to my sighing,
Would repent above my dying,
But I should not hear their crying
There.
They who leave me to my sighing,
Would repent above my dying,
But I should not hear their crying
There.
| Poems by Rose Terry | |