 | Under the dawn |  |
210
MY WHOLE LIFE LONG.
Ah! sweet, that vision lasted but one short summer night;
I dreamed of you, I prayed to you—and then you took your flight.
I fancied on the next day I had conquered and was strong;
'Tis not so! I shall dream of you my whole life long!
I dreamed of you, I prayed to you—and then you took your flight.
I fancied on the next day I had conquered and was strong;
'Tis not so! I shall dream of you my whole life long!
I have wooed an abstract Goddess, I have bent before the feet
Of art with humbler homage, and have found her foot-stool sweet,
But time brings back reality; for once I did thee wrong,
Avenged thou art—I dream of thee my whole life long!
Of art with humbler homage, and have found her foot-stool sweet,
But time brings back reality; for once I did thee wrong,
Avenged thou art—I dream of thee my whole life long!
211
In life's wild turmoil mankind (so say they) doth forget
The eyes that early longing with delicious glances met;
I doubt it—when a lull comes, that unforgotten song
Of Passion rises sweetly, thro' my whole life long!
The eyes that early longing with delicious glances met;
I doubt it—when a lull comes, that unforgotten song
Of Passion rises sweetly, thro' my whole life long!
What do I care for Progress, for Battle, or for Joy?
True pleasure hath forsaken me, I sorrow from a boy;
One night I seemed to reach you—now sunlit fancies throng,
And you shine in the sunlight my whole life long!
True pleasure hath forsaken me, I sorrow from a boy;
One night I seemed to reach you—now sunlit fancies throng,
And you shine in the sunlight my whole life long!
To merge oneselt in working is well enough for those
Who never lost their reasons in smelling at a rose,
But bitter disappointment is for ever as a prong
To goad me into thoughts of Thee my whole life long!
Who never lost their reasons in smelling at a rose,
But bitter disappointment is for ever as a prong
To goad me into thoughts of Thee my whole life long!
“Come, let it pass,” they say to one; “assert the inborn power
Of manhood: why should any man beyond the passing hour
Be moved by woman's beauty?” I know not, but the gong
Of vivid memory ceases not—my whole life long!
Of manhood: why should any man beyond the passing hour
Be moved by woman's beauty?” I know not, but the gong
Of vivid memory ceases not—my whole life long!
| Under the dawn | |