VIII. O COME to my secret bower At the hush of the twilight hour, And the stars shall alone behold thee As in my fond arms I fold thee! Thou in whose lips and eyes A charm peculiar lies, Which though I have sought in many I never have found in any:— A sweetness at which the sense Aches, it is so intense— The music of sight—by the tone Of thy voice to be guessed alone! O come to my secret bower At the hush of the twilight hour, When the stars can alone behold thee As in my fond arms I fold thee! And when I have fed for awhile Like a bee on thy flowery smile, And leaned my cheek upon thine, And played with thy soft hair's twine, If I whisper—I know not what, With a sigh, thou shalt chide me not, But give in thy richest kiss More than heaven could offer in bliss! Then come to my secret bower At the hush of the twilight hour, When the stars shall alone behold thee As in my fond arms I fold thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE BIRTH OF A CHILD by LOUIS UNTERMEYER LAMENT OF THE FRONTIER GUARD by LI PO THE BROWN GIANT by ALEXANDER ANDERSON WRITTEN ON THE LEAVES OF A FAN by FRANCIS ATTERBURY THE TRUIMPH OF ART by JOSEPHINE TURCK BAKER IN DEFENSE OF YOUTH by ROBBINS WOLCOTT BARSTOW |