ERE the morn the East has crimsoned, When the stars are twinkling there, (As they did in Watts's Hymns, and Made him wonder what they were:) When the forest-nymphs are beading Fern and flower with silvery dew -- My infallible proceeding Is to wake, and think of you. When the hunter's ringing bugle Sounds farewell to field and copse, And I sit before my frugal Meal of gravy-soup and chops: When (as Gray remarks) "the moping Owl doth to the moon complain," And the hour suggests eloping -- Fly my thoughts to you again. May my dreams be granted never? Must I aye endure affliction Rarely realized, if ever, In our wildest works of fiction? Madly Romeo loved his Juliet; Copperfield began to pine When he hadn't been to school yet -- But their loves were cold to mine. Give me hope, the least, the dimmest, Ere I drain the poisoned cup: Tell me I may tell the chymist Not to make that arsenic up! Else the heart must cease to throb in This my breast; and when, in tones Hushed, men ask, "Who killed Cock Robin?" They'll be told, "Miss Clara J-----s." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE VOICE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE MILKMAID by JEFFREYS TAYLOR THE EAGLE SWIFT by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR RISE, GLORIOUS CONQUEROR! RISE by MATTHEW BRIDGES MASTER HUGUES OF SAXE-GOTHA by ROBERT BROWNING THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE by ROBERT BURNS |