 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
AS THE LAST BEAMS OF STARS
As the last beams of stars long lost still mark their former sphere
Enlivening with delusive light the interlunar air,
The charms which play'd upon thy cheek, and brighten'd o'er thy brow
Have left their lustre in my soul and smile in memory now.
Enlivening with delusive light the interlunar air,
The charms which play'd upon thy cheek, and brighten'd o'er thy brow
Have left their lustre in my soul and smile in memory now.
Nor are they false creations wrought from Fancy's treacherous wiles
Dead tokens of our meetings past—weak copies of thy smiles,
True as the heart that holds them they with life and grace adorn
A second image of thyself within my bosom born.
Dead tokens of our meetings past—weak copies of thy smiles,
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A second image of thyself within my bosom born.
The blush thy presence kindled and the love that blush confest
Is mantling on my forehead yet and glowing in my breast,
Like odours tangled in the breeze, I treasure in my heart
Each lovely thought and gentle hope thy beauty could impart.
Is mantling on my forehead yet and glowing in my breast,
Like odours tangled in the breeze, I treasure in my heart
Each lovely thought and gentle hope thy beauty could impart.
Those thoughts are like thy spirit pure—faint shadows of thy own.
Those hopes—oh! need I tell them? live within my breast alone,
Yet both are cherish'd equally, both burn with equal strength
For both bring memories of thee, though the last may fail at length.
Those hopes—oh! need I tell them? live within my breast alone,
Yet both are cherish'd equally, both burn with equal strength
For both bring memories of thee, though the last may fail at length.
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |