Metrical essays :: :: University of Virginia Library

I saw a form of beauty 'neath the shade
Of stately cedars leaning—at her feet
A wild brook sung its low song, clear and sweet,
Then wander'd gracefully through the dim glade.

II

Her face—the earth holds nought which may compare
With its expressive, noble loveliness;
Like evening sunbeams fell each silken tress,
Kissing her regal neck and bosom fair.

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III

Her radiant fingers swept a golden lyre;
Producing tones of such deep melody—
So spirit-like—they seemed of heaven to be—
Such heavenly visitings alone inspire.

IV

The evening stars shone mild in the clear blue
Of summer's shadeless heaven; and the morn
Came with fresh voices and with flow'rs new born:—
Still there I listen'd—mindless how time flew.

V

Another evening set, mid hues that shone
Like roses in gold vases, rich and bland;—
Then—Darkness wept like Sorrow o'er the land—
I turned; the lyre remain'd—the Lyrist gone!

VI

Bending, I struck the strings 'mid many fears,
The magic tones within my soul still rung;
But oh, so tuneless were the words I sung,
My tortured spirit spent itself in tears!

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VII

Say, have you met the lady I adore?
Long—long I've waited 'neath the cedar-shade
Where first I saw, first heard, that peerless maid,
But ah, she comes to me—to me—no more!