HE sat the quiet stream beside, His white feet laving in the tide, And watch'd the pleasant waters glide Beneath the skies of summer. She singing came from mound to mound, Her footfall on the thymy ground Unheard; his tranquil haunt she found -- That beautiful new comer. He said -- "My own Glycerium! The pulses of the woods are dumb, How well I knew that thou wouldst come, Beneath the branches gliding." The dreamer fancied he had heard Her footstep, whensoever stirr'd The summer wind or languid bird Amid the boughs abiding. She dipp'd her fingers in the brook, And gaz'd awhile with happy look Upon the windings of a book Of Cyprian hymnings tender. The ripples to the ocean raced -- The flying minutes pass'd in haste: His arm was round the maiden's waist, That waist so very slender. O cruel Time! O tyrant Time! Whose winter all the streams of rhyme, The flowing waves of love sublime, In bitter passage freezes. I only see the scambling goat, The lotos on the waters float, While an old shepherd with an oat Pipes to the autumn breezes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE TRENCHES by ISAAC ROSENBERG TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH by ROBERT BURNS THE CALM [CALME] by JOHN DONNE THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE: 2 by GEORGE MEREDITH THE NATIVE LAND by FRANCISCO DE ALDANA EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 27. THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES |