HOPE wafts my bark, and round my way Her pleasant sunshine lies; For I sail with a royal argosy To win a royal prize. A maiden sits in her loveliness On the shore of a distant stream, And over the waters at her feet The lilies float, and dream. She reaches down, and draws them in, With a hand that hath no stain; And that lily of all the lilies, her hand, Is the prize I go to gain. Her hair in a yellow flood falls down From her forehead low and white; I would bathe in its billowy gold, and dream, In its sea of soft delight. Her cheek is as fair as a tender flower, When its blushing leaves dispart; Oh, my rose of the world, my regal rose, I must wear you on my heart! I must kiss your lips, so sweetly closed O'er their pearly treasures fair; Or strike on their coral reef, and sink In the waves of my dark despair! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPAIN IN AMERICA by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE LAST REDOUBT by ALFRED AUSTIN WE WEAR THE MASK by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR DISCONTENTS IN DEVON by ROBERT HERRICK AT THE SHRINE by RICHARD KENDALL MUNKITTRICK LOVE AND SLEEP by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 27 by ALFRED TENNYSON |