Bush and vale are filled by thee With a silver haze, And my soul thou hast set free With thy soothing rays. And thy gentle beams descend Kindly where I go, Like the mild eye of a friend On my joy and woe. Echoes of the times gone by Tremble through my heart, "Twixt delight and grief I ply, Evermore apart. Dearest river, flow, oh flow! Joy cannot abide. Play and kisses vanished so, Faithfulness beside. Once--oh, could I but forget!-- It was mine: the rare! And it is a torture yet Memories to bear. River, flow the vale along, Without rest or ease, Murmur, whisper to my song Gentle melodies! Swelling in the winter night With thy roaring flood, Bubbling in the spring's delight Over leaf and bud! Blessed is he who walks apart, Though no hate he bears, Holds a friend within his heart; And with him he shares All that steals, by men unguessed, Or by men unknown, Through the maze of his own breast In the night alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOST LEADER by ROBERT BROWNING THE HEART OF THE TREE by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER A SONG TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY GOING OUT OF TOWN IN THE SPRING by JOHN DRYDEN ITYLUS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE TO HIS WIFE by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS TO A SINGING BIRD by PHILIP AYRES WRITTEN ON A GLOOMY DAY, IN SICKNESS. THACKWOOD, 4TH JUNE, 1786 by SUSANNA BLAMIRE |