 | Love-Songs |  |
59
I SEND A SONG.
This afternoon I am to meet you, sweet.
The torrents of my longing overflow,
As from white clouds descending streams of snow
Cover with feathery flakes our halting feet:
I send a song in front of me to meet
The soft advancing rosebud-lips I know
So truly, that I think I see them grow
With increase soft and odorous and fleet.
The torrents of my longing overflow,
As from white clouds descending streams of snow
Cover with feathery flakes our halting feet:
I send a song in front of me to meet
The soft advancing rosebud-lips I know
So truly, that I think I see them grow
With increase soft and odorous and fleet.
Song! lay upon her lips my panting soul
Already in advance of this slow clock,
That it may sway from side to side, and rock
Even as a flower floating in a bowl
Upon those fragrant billowy tides, the whole
Of which shall overwhelm me when I knock.
Already in advance of this slow clock,
That it may sway from side to side, and rock
Even as a flower floating in a bowl
Upon those fragrant billowy tides, the whole
Of which shall overwhelm me when I knock.
| Love-Songs | |