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Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | ||
UNDINE TO ---.
If I alight, in happy rest,
A moment on your heart,
Think not your wild, impetuous guest
Is never thence to part!
A moment on your heart,
Think not your wild, impetuous guest
Is never thence to part!
I only pause to plume my wings,
Prepared for higher flight;
Far up, to me, a spirit sings
A song of fond delight!
Prepared for higher flight;
Far up, to me, a spirit sings
A song of fond delight!
It calls me always, soft and low,
And fain be there would I;
But ah! it seems so far to go:—
I cling to what is nigh!
And fain be there would I;
But ah! it seems so far to go:—
I cling to what is nigh!
220
I cannot wait so long for love,
A childish heart is mine,
I pine for all that heaven above,
But linger while I pine!
A childish heart is mine,
I pine for all that heaven above,
But linger while I pine!
And like the Grecian neophyte,
In Egypt's halls alone,
Who scarce had touch'd one step of light,
Ere yet another shone;
In Egypt's halls alone,
Who scarce had touch'd one step of light,
Ere yet another shone;
While one by one, beneath his tread,
They vanish'd as he rose;
From heart to heart, my faith has fled,
And found no calm repose.
They vanish'd as he rose;
From heart to heart, my faith has fled,
And found no calm repose.
Yet as the vine that would be free
Can only climb to light,
By twining round some kingly tree,
Supported by its might,—
Can only climb to light,
By twining round some kingly tree,
Supported by its might,—
A fragile flower of impulse, I
Shall reach no life divine,
Though still my heart turns toward the sky,
Unless I lean on thine.
Shall reach no life divine,
Though still my heart turns toward the sky,
Unless I lean on thine.
Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | ||