 | Poems |  |
112
LISE.
If I were a cloud in heaven,
I would hang over thee;
If I were a star of even,
I'd rise and set for thee;
For love, life, light, were given
Thy ministers to be.
I would hang over thee;
If I were a star of even,
I'd rise and set for thee;
For love, life, light, were given
Thy ministers to be.
If I were a wind's low laughter,
I'd kiss thy hair;
Or a sunbeam coming after,
Lie on thy forehead fair;
For the world and its wide hereafter
Have nought with thee to compare.
I'd kiss thy hair;
Or a sunbeam coming after,
Lie on thy forehead fair;
For the world and its wide hereafter
Have nought with thee to compare.
If I were a fountain leaping,
Thy name should be
The burden of my sweet weeping;
If I were a bee,
My honeyed treasures keeping,
'Twere all for thee!
Thy name should be
The burden of my sweet weeping;
If I were a bee,
My honeyed treasures keeping,
'Twere all for thee!
There's never a tided ocean
Without a shore;
Nor a leaf whose downward motion
No dews deplore;
And I dream that my devotion
May move thee to sigh once more.
Without a shore;
Nor a leaf whose downward motion
No dews deplore;
And I dream that my devotion
May move thee to sigh once more.
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