[Poems by Botta in] Memoirs of Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta written by her friends with selections from her correspondence and from her writings in prose and poetry |
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TO LAMARTINE |
 | [Poems by Botta in] Memoirs of Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta written by her friends |  |
TO LAMARTINE
A poet led me once, in chains of flowers,
A pilgrimage beneath the Orient skies;
And there I dreamed I walked in Eden's bowers,
And breathed the odorous airs of Paradise.
A pilgrimage beneath the Orient skies;
And there I dreamed I walked in Eden's bowers,
And breathed the odorous airs of Paradise.
He touched his harp, and when he sang of Love,
Then all my heart was to the poet given;
For his sweet tones seemed echoes from above;—
Strains that breathed less of Earth than Heaven.
Then all my heart was to the poet given;
For his sweet tones seemed echoes from above;—
Strains that breathed less of Earth than Heaven.
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But when in majesty I saw him stand
The sacred shrine of Liberty to guard;
The destinies of France within his hand,—
Then in the hero I forgot the bard.
The sacred shrine of Liberty to guard;
The destinies of France within his hand,—
Then in the hero I forgot the bard.
Poet and hero, thus alternately,
Would claim my homage, each with equal art.
Allegiance I to neither could deny,
So each by turns shared my divided heart.
Would claim my homage, each with equal art.
Allegiance I to neither could deny,
So each by turns shared my divided heart.
| [Poems by Botta in] Memoirs of Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta written by her friends | |