NOT as in youth, with steps outspeeding morn, And cheeks all bright, from rapture of the way, But in strange mood, half cheerful, half forlorn, She comes to me to-day. Does she forget the trysts we used to keep, When dead leaves rustled on autumnal ground, Or the lone garret, whence she banished sleep With threats of silver sound? Does she forget how shone the happy eyes When they beheld her, -- how the eager tongue Plied its swift oar through wave-like harmonies, To reach her where she sung? How at her sacred feet I cast me down? How she upraised me to her bosom fair, And from her garland shred the first light crown That ever pressed my hair? Though dust is on the leaves, her breath will bring Their freshness back: why lingers she so long? The pulseless air is waiting for her wing, Dumb with unuttered song. If tender doubt delay her on the road, Oh let her haste to find the doubt belied! If shame for love unworthily bestowed, That shame shall melt in pride. If she but smile, the crystal calm shall break In music, sweeter than it ever gave, As when a breeze breathes o'er some sleeping lake, And laughs in every wave. The ripples of awakened song shall die Kissing her feet, and woo her not in vain, Until, as once, upon her breast I lie -- Pardoned, and loved again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE FOR A SOCIAL MEETING, WITH SLIGHT ALTERATIONS BY A TEETOTALER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE HABIT OF PERFECTION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE SECRETARY; WRITTEN AT THE HAGUE, 1696 by MATTHEW PRIOR CHARACTERS: MARTHA JENNINGS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |