 | The poetical works of Barry Cornwall |  |
195
SERENADE.—(Twilight.)
The western skies are no longer gay,
For the sun of the summer has died away,
Yet left no gloom:
For ere the Spirit of heaven went,
He strung night's shadowy instrument,
And hung on every leaf perfume.
For the sun of the summer has died away,
Yet left no gloom:
For ere the Spirit of heaven went,
He strung night's shadowy instrument,
And hung on every leaf perfume.
To each sweet breeze that haunts the world,
And sleeps by day in the rose-leaf curled,
A warmth he gave:
He has left a life in these marble halls,
And beauty on yon white water-falls,
And still at his bidding these dark pines wave.
And sleeps by day in the rose-leaf curled,
A warmth he gave:
He has left a life in these marble halls,
And beauty on yon white water-falls,
And still at his bidding these dark pines wave.
196
Rich is the sun with his golden hair,
And his eye is too bright for man to bear;
And when he shrouds
His brow in vapour, and all the west
Strews gold, as to welcome a kingly guest,
He looks like a god on his throne of clouds.
And his eye is too bright for man to bear;
And when he shrouds
His brow in vapour, and all the west
Strews gold, as to welcome a kingly guest,
He looks like a god on his throne of clouds.
Yet—I know an eye as bright as his,
And a smile more soft, and lips of bliss,
Oh! lovelier far:
And an arm as white as the milk-white dove,
And a bosom all warm and rich with love,
And a heart—as the hearts of angels are.
And a smile more soft, and lips of bliss,
Oh! lovelier far:
And an arm as white as the milk-white dove,
And a bosom all warm and rich with love,
And a heart—as the hearts of angels are.
She listens now to my wild guitar,
And she hides her beyond yon lattice bar,
(A girl's delight:)
Yet she never will let me linger long,
But comes and rewards my twilight song,
And treats her love with—a kiss by night.
And she hides her beyond yon lattice bar,
(A girl's delight:)
Yet she never will let me linger long,
But comes and rewards my twilight song,
And treats her love with—a kiss by night.
| The poetical works of Barry Cornwall | |