 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
101
TO THE ROSE OF SONG.
Sweet rose-bud in the garden of pure song!
As from the unfolding of young leaves arise
Sweet fragrance, which has lain therein so long;
So, from thy parted lips, thy melodies,
In sweet perfume, now, flowing, make around
My soul an odorous ocean of sweet sound.
As from the unfolding of young leaves arise
Sweet fragrance, which has lain therein so long;
So, from thy parted lips, thy melodies,
In sweet perfume, now, flowing, make around
My soul an odorous ocean of sweet sound.
Sultana of my soul! the live-long night
I heard thy brook-like voice, (still murmuring,)
Wave round my thoughts with deluge-like delight—
Greening my heart with an immortal Spring
Of Heavenly pleasure; as the vales by rain
Are clad in verdure; Lady! sing again!
I heard thy brook-like voice, (still murmuring,)
Wave round my thoughts with deluge-like delight—
Greening my heart with an immortal Spring
Of Heavenly pleasure; as the vales by rain
Are clad in verdure; Lady! sing again!
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |