Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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To Lydia.
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XIX.
To Lydia.
The heart, that with the gloom of sadness
And sorrow has been never moved.
Knows not, 'midst all its smiles and gladness,
How sweet it is to be beloved:—
And sorrow has been never moved.
Knows not, 'midst all its smiles and gladness,
How sweet it is to be beloved:—
Knows not how sweet it is to languish
In sorrows from the world concealed
And feel two soft lips heal its anguish,
Breathing the sigh of love revealed.
In sorrows from the world concealed
And feel two soft lips heal its anguish,
Breathing the sigh of love revealed.
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Oh! there are hearts—and mine is one—
Oft wounded by too keenly feeling;
Which love like thine, and thine alone,
Can only know the art of healing.
Oft wounded by too keenly feeling;
Which love like thine, and thine alone,
Can only know the art of healing.
And well thou know'st this faithful heart,
No other maiden ever knew;
'Midst all its sorrows and its smart
It never came to one but you:
No other maiden ever knew;
'Midst all its sorrows and its smart
It never came to one but you:
Nor ever shall; for, though there's none
Could ever wound it so severely,
Now well it knows there is not one
Can ever love it half so dearly.
Could ever wound it so severely,
Now well it knows there is not one
Can ever love it half so dearly.
But why complain? Perhaps 'twas well
Our bosoms did so much endure:
Had we ne'er drunk of sorrow's well,
Our love had never been so pure.
Our bosoms did so much endure:
Had we ne'er drunk of sorrow's well,
Our love had never been so pure.
Now I feel love's, not sorrow's, tear
Between my trembling eyelids prest:
My dearest Lydia! wert thou here,
Oh! I would shed it on thy breast.
Between my trembling eyelids prest:
My dearest Lydia! wert thou here,
Oh! I would shed it on thy breast.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |