 | London at Night |  |
70
STANZAS.
This Love—this deep, this mighty Love,
That makes my heart in music move,
To thee a dream, a trance may seem,
To me it makes all else a dream!
That makes my heart in music move,
To thee a dream, a trance may seem,
To me it makes all else a dream!
And those who love not—Dreamers all,
Round whom Indifference weaves her pall,
Her chilling pall, her darkening shroud,
That wraps all nature in a cloud!
Round whom Indifference weaves her pall,
Her chilling pall, her darkening shroud,
That wraps all nature in a cloud!
71
And oh! that smile, which doth exert
No magic o'er thy moveless heart—
It may seem nothing unto thee,
'T is more than all I wish to me!
No magic o'er thy moveless heart—
It may seem nothing unto thee,
'T is more than all I wish to me!
This Love; this deep, this mighty Love,
Which makes my heart such transports prove—
To thee an empty dream may seem,
To me it makes all else a dream!
Which makes my heart such transports prove—
To thee an empty dream may seem,
To me it makes all else a dream!
| London at Night | |