"Hark! is he sleeping?—Let the soft lips meet. Who knows? the bright June morning may flame red, Yea scarlet round about this white dim bed Where all seems now so moon-caressed and sweet. Ah! sweetheart, how thy tender heart doth beat! Let me kiss every trembling pulse instead, And kiss thy limbs,—kiss upward to thine head; Thrice-rapturous are the night hours,—yet how fleet! "Is that the morning at the window-pane? Let the wild burning red lips cling once more! Ha! the swift sudden sword-flash at the door: Kiss me; I wait; do thou the garden gain"— She would not leave him. That dark evil stain Is where their hearts' blood fountained on the floor. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BYRON by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER RAILWAY DREAMINGS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON A STORY AT DUSK by ADA CAMBRIDGE THERE ARE STILL KINGFISHERS by ARCHIBALD YOUNG CAMPBELL IN AN ANATOMY LABORATORY by BEULA CHAMBERLAIN DAYBREAK by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE ON THE ICE ISLANDS SEEN FLOATING IN THE GERMAN OCEAN by WILLIAM COWPER |