NAY, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns One charm of feeling, one fond regret; Believe me, a few of thy angry frowns Are all I've sunk in its bright wave yet. Ne'er hath a beam Been lost in the stream That ever was shed from thy form or soul; The spell of those eyes, The balm of thy sighs, Still float on the surface, and hallow my bowl. Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal One blissful dream of the heart from me; Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, The bowl but brightens my love for thee. They tell us that Love, in his fairy bower, Had two blush-roses, of birth divine; He sprinkled the one with a rainbow's shower, But bathed the other with mantling wine. Soon did the buds That drank of the floods Distill'd by the rainbow decline and fade; While those which the tide Of ruby had dyed All blush'd into beauty, like thee, sweet maid! Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal One blissful dream of the heart from me; Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, The bowl but brightens my love for thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA CONDUCTORA DEL DESEO/CONDUIT by VIRGIL SUAREZ EDWIN MORRIS; OR, THE LAKE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE NURSE'S STORY: THE HAND OF GLORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 104. WRITTEN AT FLORENCE: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |