IT was the May when I was born, Soft moonlight through the casement stream d, And still, as it were yester-morn, I dream the dream I dream'd. I saw two forms from Fairy Land, Along the moonbeams gently glide, Until they halted, hand in hand, My infant couch beside. With smiles, the cradle bending o'er, I heard their whispered voices breathe -- The one a crown of diamond wore, The one a myrtle wreath: "Twin brothers from the better clime, A poet's spell hath lured to thee; Say which shall, in the coming time, Thy chosen fairy be?" I stretch'd my hand, as if my grasp Could snatch the toy from either brow; And found a leaf within my clasp, @3One@1 leaf -- as fragrant now! If both in life may not be won, Be mine, at least, the gentler brother- For he whose life deserves the one, In death may gain the other. |