Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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| XXXIV. | XXXIV.
To Lydia.
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XXXIV.
To Lydia.
Think not on me, thou lovely one,
Who oft hast lain upon my breast;
To know my health and hopes are gone
Would only break thy bosom's rest.
Who oft hast lain upon my breast;
To know my health and hopes are gone
Would only break thy bosom's rest.
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Yet thou must know, my kindest maid,
And breathe for me thy fondest prayer;—
Thy early lover low is laid,
Weary with sickness, grief, and care.
And breathe for me thy fondest prayer;—
Thy early lover low is laid,
Weary with sickness, grief, and care.
Think not when gladsome spring returns
To strew thy evening path with flowers,
That ever we shall meet again,
In happiness, among the bowers:
To strew thy evening path with flowers,
That ever we shall meet again,
In happiness, among the bowers:
Think not when summer nights are sweet,
And roses wild perfume the brier,
With you again I'll ever meet
'Mong corn-fields green and waters clear:
And roses wild perfume the brier,
With you again I'll ever meet
'Mong corn-fields green and waters clear:
Think not when oft on autumn eves
You to the moonlit bank repair,
That, 'mong the yellow withering leaves,
Again we'll ever wander there:
You to the moonlit bank repair,
That, 'mong the yellow withering leaves,
Again we'll ever wander there:
Think not when winter's stormy blast
Moans dreary through the leafless grove,
I'll sing thee in thy father's home,
My Lydia dear, thy songs of love:
Moans dreary through the leafless grove,
I'll sing thee in thy father's home,
My Lydia dear, thy songs of love:
Think not on mornings mild and bright,
When peaceful Sabbath bells are ringing,
Our souls shall mingle, with delight,
Where hymns of holiness are singing.
When peaceful Sabbath bells are ringing,
Our souls shall mingle, with delight,
Where hymns of holiness are singing.
But when, among the graves, are swelling
The Psalms we've sung in happier years,
Look on my green and flowery dwelling—
Then look to Heaven, and dry thy tears.
The Psalms we've sung in happier years,
Look on my green and flowery dwelling—
Then look to Heaven, and dry thy tears.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |