 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
59
SONG.
[The mists are drawn to the blue sky]
The mists are drawn to the blue sky;
The white streams gather to the sea;
And I, too, could not choose but fly,
My own dear love, to thee:
The white streams gather to the sea;
And I, too, could not choose but fly,
My own dear love, to thee:
Soft winds breathed of thee, as in dream;
The still stars nightly looked of thee;
The sweet field's scent was thine, the stream
Ran laughing that such joy should be.
The still stars nightly looked of thee;
The sweet field's scent was thine, the stream
Ran laughing that such joy should be.
By all these things I knew that thou
Wast somewhere waiting, sweet, for me;
And lo! I needs must follow now,
And live and die with thee.
Wast somewhere waiting, sweet, for me;
And lo! I needs must follow now,
And live and die with thee.
| Poems by James Rhoades | |