 | The silver bridge and other poems |  |
77
A PICTURE.
Within my room's serene seclusion,
Dwells evermore a pictured face,
Dream-haunted, like a rapt Carthusian,
With solemn eyes of tenderest grace,
Which seem to compass land and sea,
Yet never look on me.
Dwells evermore a pictured face,
Dream-haunted, like a rapt Carthusian,
With solemn eyes of tenderest grace,
Which seem to compass land and sea,
Yet never look on me.
O, eyes which gaze beyond and over,
Yet never meet and answer mine,
What may your steadfast quest discover
On the horizon's hazy line?
What charm in yonder distance lies,
O, sad and wistful eyes?
Yet never meet and answer mine,
What may your steadfast quest discover
On the horizon's hazy line?
What charm in yonder distance lies,
O, sad and wistful eyes?
Hopeful despite their depth of grieving,
Still patiently they watch afar,
As though awaiting or perceiving
The dawn of some unrisen star—
The star which often and again
My own have sought in vain.
Still patiently they watch afar,
As though awaiting or perceiving
The dawn of some unrisen star—
The star which often and again
My own have sought in vain.
78
Sometimes methinks its growing splendor
Brightens and glows on brow and cheek,—
The eyes grow luminous and tender,
The lips half tremble as to speak,
And all the face transfigured seems
By sweet prophetic dreams.
Brightens and glows on brow and cheek,—
The eyes grow luminous and tender,
The lips half tremble as to speak,
And all the face transfigured seems
By sweet prophetic dreams.
Ah, if when years have told their story,
Those dreams shall come divinely true,
That dim dawn bloom to sudden glory—
This face will shine as angels' do,—
These eyes, more dear than angels' be,
Will look—at last—on me!
Those dreams shall come divinely true,
That dim dawn bloom to sudden glory—
This face will shine as angels' do,—
These eyes, more dear than angels' be,
Will look—at last—on me!
| The silver bridge and other poems | |