 | Love-Songs |  |
57
A TALISMAN.
I have not seen you,—and the days have been
But as a meagre and remorseful time,
The likeness of some frozen blue-clad clime,
Some destitute abode of tears and sin;
But summer is upon us, and we win
The roses and the dreams of mute delight
That clothe the sweet limbs of a summer night,
And hem the fragrant arms of summer in.
But as a meagre and remorseful time,
The likeness of some frozen blue-clad clime,
Some destitute abode of tears and sin;
But summer is upon us, and we win
The roses and the dreams of mute delight
That clothe the sweet limbs of a summer night,
And hem the fragrant arms of summer in.
Summer is as a fragrant rose-plumed bird,
Young, and delirious with its own desire;
Winter is as a worn-out aged fire—
But somewhere of a talisman I heard
That hath the magic potency to gird
Roses about each wintry wan-built briar.
Young, and delirious with its own desire;
Winter is as a worn-out aged fire—
But somewhere of a talisman I heard
That hath the magic potency to gird
Roses about each wintry wan-built briar.
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