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10
TO ------.
(A SONNET.)
JAMES D. CORROTHERS.
Beyond the hilltops to the north and west.
Beyond the dells, and past the pleasant streams.
Beyond the lakes that murmur in their dreams
The liquid fancies of their silver rest—
In such sweet thoughts as haunt a poet's breast—
(For lakes are poets, Love) there dwells my theme's
Sweet idol, you, Beloved, O Love, it seems
That of all women you are first and best!
I love you deeply, and my soul would prove
Its passion, Dearest, on this page for you.
What shall I say?—O Love, believe me true!
Ask lake and hilltop if they know my song:
Ask stream and dell, and airs that bear along
My soul's blown odors, if they know my love.
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