 | The White Pilgrim and Other Poems |  |
149
SERENADE.
Sleep, dear, sleep! Such eyes as those, love,
Burn so brightly all the day,
That they need the night's repose, love,
To be trimmed, and put away.
If the vestal soul they shine in
Always lit the flame should keep,
What should I find air for mine in?
Sleep, dear, sleep!
Burn so brightly all the day,
That they need the night's repose, love,
To be trimmed, and put away.
If the vestal soul they shine in
Always lit the flame should keep,
What should I find air for mine in?
Sleep, dear, sleep!
Dream, dear, dream! Thy thoughts by day, love,
Thy sweet will may rule and guide;
Slumber-winged, they fain must stray, love,
To thy constant lover's side.
In the sleeper's fields Elysian
They can find no better theme—
If I mingle with thy vision,
Dream, dear, dream!
Thy sweet will may rule and guide;
Slumber-winged, they fain must stray, love,
To thy constant lover's side.
In the sleeper's fields Elysian
They can find no better theme—
If I mingle with thy vision,
Dream, dear, dream!
Wake, dear, wake! The sun is high, love,
And outburns the morning star;
Only in the eyes of my love,
Shines a glory purer far.
Brighter than the sunrise splendour,
When the day's first blushes break,
Is the love-light true and tender;
Wake, dear, wake!
And outburns the morning star;
Only in the eyes of my love,
Shines a glory purer far.
Brighter than the sunrise splendour,
When the day's first blushes break,
Is the love-light true and tender;
Wake, dear, wake!
| The White Pilgrim and Other Poems | |