 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
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IMPATIENCE
E. L.
Only to follow you, dearest, only to find you!
Only to feel for one instant the touch of your hand;
Only to tell you once of the love you left behind you,—
To say the world without you is like a desert of sand;
Only to feel for one instant the touch of your hand;
Only to tell you once of the love you left behind you,—
To say the world without you is like a desert of sand;
That the flowers have lost their perfume, the rose its splendor,
And the charm of nature is lost in a dull eclipse;
That joy went out with the glance of your eyes so tender,
And beauty passed with the lovely smile on your lips.
And the charm of nature is lost in a dull eclipse;
That joy went out with the glance of your eyes so tender,
And beauty passed with the lovely smile on your lips.
I did not dream it was you who kindled the morning
And folded the evening purple in peace so sweet;
But you took the whole world's rapture without a warning,
And left me naught save the print of your patient feet.
And folded the evening purple in peace so sweet;
But you took the whole world's rapture without a warning,
And left me naught save the print of your patient feet.
I count the days and the hours that hold us asunder:
I long for Death's friendly hand which shall rend in twain,
With the glorious lightning flash and the golden thunder,
These clouds of the earth, and give me my own again!
I long for Death's friendly hand which shall rend in twain,
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These clouds of the earth, and give me my own again!
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |