 | The poetical works (1906) |  |
TO ------
I
Think not of it, sweet one, so;—Give it not a tear;
Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go
Any, any where.
II
Do not look so sad, sweet one,—Sad and fadingly;
Shed one drop, then it is gone,
O 'twas born to die.
III
Still so pale? then dearest weep;Weep, I'll count the tears,
And each one shall be a bliss
For thee in after years.
295
IV
Brighter has it left thine eyesThan a sunny rill;
And thy whispering melodies
Are tenderer still.
V
Yet—as all things mourn awhileAt fleeting blisses,
Let us too! but be our dirge
A dirge of kisses.
| The poetical works (1906) | |