The Two Brothers, and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

For long o'er life's calm waves I wended,
Beloved, far from thee alone;
And many stars my path attended,
And each their tale of music ended
With warblings of their own.

II

Strange were the dreams that round me floated,
And beautiful their various tone,
But like a child on each I doted,
To each my frail heart seem'd devoted,
For all were then mine own.

151

III

And, like a young unpractised singer,
Who hath nor tears nor sorrow known,
Stray'd through the strings my heedless finger,
If only passing dreams would linger,
A moment for mine own.

IV

Then, as a nymph of fabling story,
Or spirit seen in dreams alone,
Thou passedst by me—a far glory,
Glancing through dim clouds transitory,
In beauty all thine own.

V

An hour, and all was still around me:
But, oh! that vision's magic zone,
It left me not as erst it found me,
But like a strange wild witchery bound me,
A witchery of its own.

152

VI

At last I went, my sail unfurling,
On life's first billowy waves alone,
Light breezes were the waters curling,
And sunlight every drop empearling,
With radiance like its own.

VII

Oh, still that form my spirit haunted,
Though its deep semblance scarce was known,
Thy steps were on the light clouds planted,
And what of sweetness music chanted
Seem'd borrow'd from thine own.

VIII

Beloved, that was blest, but sadness
Broods alway o'er the heart's unknown:
Now dreams have pass'd, and springs of gladness,
But I may not tell—to tell were madness—
What joy-springs are mine own.

153

IX

Ah! life's rough billows swell for ever,
And years will fly as years have flown,
And youth fleets on,—yet never, never,
Can time or distance thee dissever,
Beloved, from thine own.

X

And still thy form in light arises,
Like trancing music round me thrown,
And though the voice thyself surprises,
Thy fond love breaks through all disguises,
And whispers, “All thine own.”

Watton, 1844.