They have no like, the hours spent with you. They are the essence Time distills from joy. The world becomes a many-colored toy, Our swift delight -- plaything to young gods due. The dusty path, the shadows on the river, The soft, cool air at dusk, lawns smelling sweet, A glance, a smile, a kiss on a still street -- The gifts of Love, two young gods each a giver, And though these hours must yield and I resume My taskwork, and dark ages intervene Until your magic light again is seen, I conjure your swift presence in this room -- Reliving with you each enchanted night, My being all aquiver with delight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXCELLENCY OF CHRIST by GILES FLETCHER THE YOUNGER MARCO BOZZARIS by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK BITTER-SWEET: CRADLE SONG [OR, BABYHOOD] by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE GRAVE OF LOVE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK MONCH AND JUNGFRAU by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG EDGE by CHARLOTTE FARRINGTON BABCOCK THREE THROWS AND ONE by JANE BARLOW |