 | Poems by Edward C. Pinkney |  |
34
SONG.
I need not name thy thrilling name,
Though now I drink to thee, my dear.
Since all sounds shape that magic word,
That fall upon my ear,—Mary;
And silence, with a wakeful voice,
Speaks it in accents loudly free,
As darkness hath a light that shows
Thy gentle face to me,—Mary.
Though now I drink to thee, my dear.
Since all sounds shape that magic word,
That fall upon my ear,—Mary;
And silence, with a wakeful voice,
Speaks it in accents loudly free,
As darkness hath a light that shows
Thy gentle face to me,—Mary.
I pledge thee in the grape's pure soul,
With scarce one hope, and many fears,
Mixt, were I of a melting mood,
With many bitter tears,—Mary—
I pledge thee, and the empty cup
Emblems this hollow life of mine,
To which, a gone enchantment, thou
No more wilt be the wine,—Mary,
With scarce one hope, and many fears,
Mixt, were I of a melting mood,
With many bitter tears,—Mary—
I pledge thee, and the empty cup
Emblems this hollow life of mine,
To which, a gone enchantment, thou
No more wilt be the wine,—Mary,
| Poems by Edward C. Pinkney | |