 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
ANTICIPATION
I set my heart to sing of leaves,
Ere buds had felt the March wind blow:
I laid my head and dreamt of sheaves,
Ere seedsmen had the heart to sow:
I fancied swallows at the eaves,
And found old nests in pendent snow.
Ere buds had felt the March wind blow:
I laid my head and dreamt of sheaves,
Ere seedsmen had the heart to sow:
I fancied swallows at the eaves,
And found old nests in pendent snow.
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I dreamt a scent of daffodils,
When frosty shone the village tiles:
Of flowery perfume from the hills,
When ice had bound the mere for miles:
Of kingcups yellowing all the rills,
When snowdrift silted up the stiles.
When frosty shone the village tiles:
Of flowery perfume from the hills,
When ice had bound the mere for miles:
Of kingcups yellowing all the rills,
When snowdrift silted up the stiles.
I found a barren bush of thorn,
Where hung last year the sweet field-rose:
I said, no bint of purple morn
The chambers of the east disclose:
Poor heart, poor song, poor pinions torn,
Flutter and perish in the snows.
Where hung last year the sweet field-rose:
I said, no bint of purple morn
The chambers of the east disclose:
Poor heart, poor song, poor pinions torn,
Flutter and perish in the snows.
I said, a winter, huge and deep,
Crawls on the bitter, hungry plain:
Why should I dream, who cannot sleep,
Or hope to understand the pain,
Which rolls the doleful tears I weep,
That Spring is dead, that Love is slain?
Crawls on the bitter, hungry plain:
Why should I dream, who cannot sleep,
Or hope to understand the pain,
Which rolls the doleful tears I weep,
That Spring is dead, that Love is slain?
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |