Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A LOVER TO HIS BETROTHED, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A LOVER TO HIS BETROTHED, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Summer was on the hills when last we parted
Last Line: Sweet as thy smile, and radiant as thine eyes'
Alternate Author Name(s): Delta
Subject(s): Courtship


SUMMER was on the hills when last we parted,
Flowers in the vale, and beauty on the sky;
Our hearts were true, although our hopes were thwarted;
Forward, with wistful eye,
Scarce half-resign'd we look'd, yet thought how sweet
'Twould be again in after months to meet.
And months have pass'd: now the bright moon is shining
O'er the gray mountains and the stilly sea,
As, by the streamlet's willowy bend reclining,
I pause remembering thee,
Who to the moonlight lent a softer charm
As through these wilds we wandered arm in arm.

Yes! as we roam'd the sylvan earth seem'd glowing
With many a beauty unremark'd before:
The soul was like a deep urn overflowing
With thoughts, a treasured store;
The very flowers seem'd born but to exhale,
As breath'd the West, their fragrance to the gale.
Methinks I see thee yet -- thy form of lightness,
An angel phantom gliding through the trees,
Thine alabaster brow, thy cheek of brightness,
Thy tresses in the breeze
Floating their auburn, and thine eyes that made,
So rich their blue, heaven's azure like a shade.

Methinks even yet I feel thy timid fingers,
With their bland pressure thrilling bliss to mine;
Methinks yet on my cheek thy breathing lingers
As, fondly leant to thine,
I told how life all pleasureless would be,
Green palm-tree of earth's desert! wanting thee.
Not yet, not yet had disappointment shrouded
Youth's summer calm with storms of wintry strife;
The star of Hope shone o'er our path unclouded,
And Fancy colour'd life
With those elysian rainbow-hues, which Truth
Melts with his rod, when disenchanting youth.

Where art thou now? I look around, but see not
The features and the form that haunt my dreams!
Where art thou now? I listen, but for me, not
The deep rich music streams
Of that entrancing voice, which could bestow
A zest to pleasure, and a balm to wo: --
I miss thy smile, when morn's first light is bursting
Through the green branches of the casement tree;
To list thy voice my lonely ear is thirsting,
Beside the moonlit sea:
Vain are my longings, my repinings vain;
Sleep only gives thee to my arms again.

Yet should it cheer me, that nor wo hath shatter'd
The ties that link our hearts, nor Hate, nor Wrath,
And soon the day may dawn, when shall be scatter'd
All shadows from our path;
And visions be fulfill'd, by Hope adored,
In thee, the long-lost, to mine arms restored.
Ah! could I see thee! -- see thee, were it only
But for a moment looking bliss to me!
Ah! could I hear thee! -- desolate and lonely
Is life deprived of thee:
I start from out my revery, to know
That hills between us rise, and rivers flow!

Let Fortune change -- be fickle Fate preparing
To shower her arrows, or to shed her balm,
All that I ask for, pray for, is the sharing
With thee life's storm or calm;
For, ah! with others' wealth and mirth would be
Less sweet by far than sorrow shared with thee!
Yes! vainly, foolishly, the vulgar reckon
That happiness resides in outward shows:
Contentment from the lowliest cot may beckon
True Love to sweet repose:
For genuine bliss can ne'er be far apart,
When soul meets soul, and heart responds to heart.

Farewell! let tyrannous Time roll on, estranging
The eyes and heart from each familiar spot:
Be fickle friendships with the seasons changing,
So that thou changest not!
I could not that the love which owes its birth
The heaven should perish, like the things of earth!
As fails the flooding moonlight round me,
Heaven's best joys on thy beloved head!
May cares that harass, and may griefs that wound me,
Flee from thy path and bed!
Be every thought that stirs and hour that flies,
Sweet as thy smile, and radiant as thine eyes'





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