I cannot grasp or believe it, A dream has bewitched me quite. Why was it that me of all maidens He raised to this happiest height? It seemed as if he had spoken: I am thine eternally-- It seemed--I still must be dreaming! It cannot, cannot be. Oh, let me die thus dreaming, And resting upon his breast, My death in ecstasy drinking, In tears of unending rest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE by PHILIP FRENEAU THE CLINGING VINE by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE MAPLE TREE OVER THE WAY by LEVI BISHOP WRITTEN AT SEA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT PROLOGUE FOR THE SILVERDALE VILLAGE PLAYERS: EASTER 1922 by GORDON BOTTOMLEY ASOLANDO: FLUTE-MUSIC, WITH AN ACCOMPANIMENT by ROBERT BROWNING ADON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A CHAIN TO WEAR by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |