 | Poems and Translations |  |
18
ADMIRING LOVE.
Like her, the maiden who for years
Fed on the scent of flowers fine,
Such is my love, which now appears
To live but on its thoughts of thine:
That sweetness of love-bloom is all
My food, my hunger's festival.
Fed on the scent of flowers fine,
Such is my love, which now appears
To live but on its thoughts of thine:
That sweetness of love-bloom is all
My food, my hunger's festival.
The grace that halos thee around,
Thy beauty's effluence that doth kiss
The garden's most removèd bound,
My fond condition can not miss,—
Who hourly hover round the bloom,
Contenting me with its perfume.
Thy beauty's effluence that doth kiss
The garden's most removèd bound,
My fond condition can not miss,—
Who hourly hover round the bloom,
Contenting me with its perfume.
So modest-humble my delight,
Not daring to approach too near,
But having thee in constant sight
And living in thy atmosphere:
No miracle, I may confess,—
So fragrant is thy loveliness.
Not daring to approach too near,
But having thee in constant sight
And living in thy atmosphere:
No miracle, I may confess,—
So fragrant is thy loveliness.
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