 | The bells |  |
44
TO MARIE.
As sea-shells whisper of the sleepless sea,
Memory whispers of the past and you,
Charming my bosom with its melody.
Those summer nights, which all too quickly flew,
Like singing birds upon their noiseless wings,
Ghost-like rise up before me, and I turn
To sip the chalice pleasing mem'ry brings.
There is one eve I cherish in my breast
Like holy water in a marble urn:
The sun was treading to the yawning West—
To that great grave-yard of the buried Days!
And at our feet a devious river rolled,
Squirming and gliding in the sunset's blaze,
Like a great serpent with a skin of gold!
We had been reading a young Bard, who'd stemmed
The sea of criticism, and unfurled
His daring colors to a charmed world;
In his rich heart our poorer hearts were hemmed.
Your voice was full of tears, and there stood
Two, trembling, on the threshold of your eyes.
O! much, my friend, I envied him who could
Lure two such angels out of paradise.
Memory whispers of the past and you,
Charming my bosom with its melody.
Those summer nights, which all too quickly flew,
Like singing birds upon their noiseless wings,
Ghost-like rise up before me, and I turn
To sip the chalice pleasing mem'ry brings.
There is one eve I cherish in my breast
Like holy water in a marble urn:
The sun was treading to the yawning West—
To that great grave-yard of the buried Days!
And at our feet a devious river rolled,
Squirming and gliding in the sunset's blaze,
Like a great serpent with a skin of gold!
45
The sea of criticism, and unfurled
His daring colors to a charmed world;
In his rich heart our poorer hearts were hemmed.
Your voice was full of tears, and there stood
Two, trembling, on the threshold of your eyes.
O! much, my friend, I envied him who could
Lure two such angels out of paradise.
You bent above me, and your nighty hair,
Like dusk and sunset mixing, mixed with mine;
I felt a kiss, or 'twas a passing air
That had been loitering on lips divine.
Then you drew back, and with a crimson look
Gazed at the pebbles in the talking brook.
Like dusk and sunset mixing, mixed with mine;
I felt a kiss, or 'twas a passing air
That had been loitering on lips divine.
Then you drew back, and with a crimson look
Gazed at the pebbles in the talking brook.
| The bells | |