Twilight blushing o'er the hillside Breathes rare kisses to the sea, Whilst fond memory softly murmurs Dreams of other days to me. Mark the seabird homeward flying To its nestling, cooing mate, While the laughing zephyrs whisper; "Love, good night -- 'tis growing late." Ah, these shadows silent gathering Round this wave-kissed Highland shore Bring to mind old shadowy faces, Faces we shall see no more. Where are they, the buds and blossoms Of life's radiant, rosy dawn? Withered -- ay, like rarest roses -- And the billows murmur, "Gone." Yes, and we shall soon drift seaward On oblivion's unknown stream, For the sum of all existence Is the essence of a dream. Long these lonely waves shall echo Round this haunted Highland shore, But these scenes and lands that know us, Shall remember us no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DIANEME (1) by ROBERT HERRICK TO HIS CONSCIENCE by ROBERT HERRICK THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE ROMANCE OF THE LILY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A DREAM by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE SOUL'S MUTINY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT RUTH AND NAOMI by LOWELL COURIER ON VIEWING HER SLEEPING INFANT CHARLES COWPER by MARIA FRANCES CECILIA (MADAN) COWPER |