 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
BEAUTIES LATE THAT FED ME.
Beauties late that fed me,
Wild, in wandering mood,
Wherefore have ye led me
To the solitude?
Why, in nightly mirage,
To mine eyes have given
Wooing glimpses of an image
Like a form of heaven?
And I dream on, still dream, am forevermore dreaming
Of that form, dear form, too sweet for all mortal seeming,
Which, to woo me, ye show me,
From morning to even.
Wild, in wandering mood,
Wherefore have ye led me
To the solitude?
Why, in nightly mirage,
To mine eyes have given
Wooing glimpses of an image
Like a form of heaven?
And I dream on, still dream, am forevermore dreaming
Of that form, dear form, too sweet for all mortal seeming,
Which, to woo me, ye show me,
From morning to even.
Oh! as now ye see me,
Wearied with the quest,
From the glamour free me,
That disturbs my rest.
Let me, in these pages,
See no shape imploring,
Saving such as gravest sages
Find their wisdom's lore in.
Take from the leaf that face, that is evermore seeming—
Seeming to woo, with a smile from those eyes upward gleaming,
Which all adore—which one more
Will die in adoring.
Wearied with the quest,
From the glamour free me,
That disturbs my rest.
334
See no shape imploring,
Saving such as gravest sages
Find their wisdom's lore in.
Take from the leaf that face, that is evermore seeming—
Seeming to woo, with a smile from those eyes upward gleaming,
Which all adore—which one more
Will die in adoring.
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |