 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
61
Be Still, my Wild Heart.
1825.
Be still, my wild heart! in that throb there was sin,
For each throb of thine is another's by vow;
And the maid 'twas my fortune to woo and to win,
Was fair as the fairest I look upon now.
For each throb of thine is another's by vow;
And the maid 'twas my fortune to woo and to win,
Was fair as the fairest I look upon now.
As light was her step, and as winningly shy
Her glances, as any commanding applause;
And if a slight change hath come over her—why
Should he love her less who himself is the cause?
Her glances, as any commanding applause;
And if a slight change hath come over her—why
Should he love her less who himself is the cause?
All the rapture of hope—all the pain of suspense—
All the charm of pursuit have been known to my soul;
And—crowned—shall I view with an envious sense
The pleasures of those that yet strive for the goal?
All the charm of pursuit have been known to my soul;
And—crowned—shall I view with an envious sense
The pleasures of those that yet strive for the goal?
No! 'twas but my heart that, oblivious awhile,
Leaped back to a time when its pulses were free;
But—awakened—its beatings are true to the smile
Of Her whose warm heart is devoted to me!
Leaped back to a time when its pulses were free;
But—awakened—its beatings are true to the smile
Of Her whose warm heart is devoted to me!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |