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71
THE SONG OF THE WIND
I love yon crystal lakelet,
Her purity and peace;
I sing her love songs from the shore
Amid the leafy trees—
A host of melancholy
And mystic melodies.
Her purity and peace;
I sing her love songs from the shore
Amid the leafy trees—
A host of melancholy
And mystic melodies.
I press my lips to her lips
In the kiss my soul so craves,
Till she blushes into ripples
And dimples into waves—
Till she dimples into eddies,
And blushes into waves.
In the kiss my soul so craves,
Till she blushes into ripples
And dimples into waves—
Till she dimples into eddies,
And blushes into waves.
And, when the night has fallen,
I sleep upon her breast,
For I weary of my burden
Of odors and must rest—
For with surfeit of sweet odors
My spirit is oppressed.
I sleep upon her breast,
For I weary of my burden
Of odors and must rest—
For with surfeit of sweet odors
My spirit is oppressed.
1879.
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