The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| II. |
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| IV. |
| V. | V |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
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 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
V
When the day glooms my passion is at rest,
For thou hast nothing of the gloomy hour.
But when the face of day is gaudy dressed,
I trace thee imaged in each summer flower.
For thou hast nothing of the gloomy hour.
But when the face of day is gaudy dressed,
I trace thee imaged in each summer flower.
I think the earth is glorious, and I know
We twain might pace it under glorious stars:
To miss this crown of joy, my chiefest woe
New rankles sickly thought's half-healing scars.
We twain might pace it under glorious stars:
To miss this crown of joy, my chiefest woe
New rankles sickly thought's half-healing scars.
Is the sky soft, and does the resting sun
Glow from the undercloud till wood and sky
Are glory-mantled? Am I not alone?
Let her be near and let the world go by,
Glow from the undercloud till wood and sky
Are glory-mantled? Am I not alone?
Let her be near and let the world go by,
Pass on with curious ears, and scornful eyes,
Or listless looks, a cankered heart's disguise.
Or listless looks, a cankered heart's disguise.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |