 | Love-Songs |  |
62
EVEN AS THE DOVE.
Even as the dove went, errant from the ark,
Speeding with hopeful pinions through the deep
To analyse the awful void, and peep
If anywhere a green and living spark
Her eyes of bright intelligence might mark—
Fly, fragrant-winged song, towards my love,
Dividing with the white breast of a dove
The inanimate resistance of the dark.
Speeding with hopeful pinions through the deep
To analyse the awful void, and peep
If anywhere a green and living spark
Her eyes of bright intelligence might mark—
Fly, fragrant-winged song, towards my love,
Dividing with the white breast of a dove
The inanimate resistance of the dark.
Seek her, and hover over her in spite
Of the dark-panoplied adulterous storm,
And seize from off her lips a rosebud white,
Tender and irreproachable and warm,—
And hasten with that soft inviolate form
Through the wild ebbing armies of the night.
Of the dark-panoplied adulterous storm,
And seize from off her lips a rosebud white,
Tender and irreproachable and warm,—
And hasten with that soft inviolate form
Through the wild ebbing armies of the night.
1871.
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