Twilight blushing o'er the hillside Breathes rare kisses to the sea, Whilst fond memory softly murmurs Dreams of other days to me. Mark the seabird homeward flying To its nestling, cooing mate, While the laughing zephyrs whisper; "Love, good night -- 'tis growing late." Ah, these shadows silent gathering Round this wave-kissed Highland shore Bring to mind old shadowy faces, Faces we shall see no more. Where are they, the buds and blossoms Of life's radiant, rosy dawn? Withered -- ay, like rarest roses -- And the billows murmur, "Gone." Yes, and we shall soon drift seaward On oblivion's unknown stream, For the sum of all existence Is the essence of a dream. Long these lonely waves shall echo Round this haunted Highland shore, But these scenes and lands that know us, Shall remember us no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POEM FROM THE EDGE OF AMERICA by JAMES GALVIN THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE PROMETHEUS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A PASTORAL DIALOGUE: SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS by THOMAS CAREW THE LOVER COMFORTETH HIMSELF WITH THE WORTHINESS OF HIS LOVE by HENRY HOWARD |