 | [Poems by Hoffman in] Charles Fenno Hoffman |  |
301
[WHO, MAIDEN?]
Who, Maiden, makes this river flow?
The Spirit—he makes its ripples glow—
But I have a charm that can make thee, dear,
Steal over the wave to thy lover here.
The Spirit—he makes its ripples glow—
But I have a charm that can make thee, dear,
Steal over the wave to thy lover here.
302
Who, Maiden, makes this river flow?
The Spirit—he makes its ripples glow—
Yet every blush, that my love would hide,
Is mirror'd for me in the tell-tale tide.
The Spirit—he makes its ripples glow—
Yet every blush, that my love would hide,
Is mirror'd for me in the tell-tale tide.
And though thou should'st sleep on the farthest isle,
Round which these dimpling waters smile—
Yet I have a charm that can make thee, dear,
Steal over the wave to thy lover here.
Round which these dimpling waters smile—
Yet I have a charm that can make thee, dear,
Steal over the wave to thy lover here.
| [Poems by Hoffman in] Charles Fenno Hoffman | |