PRESS on, my steed! I hear the swell Of Valle Crucis' vesper-bell Sweet floating from the holy dell O'er woods and waters round. Perchance the maid I love, e'en now, From Dinas Bran's majestic brow, Looks o'er the fairy world below, And listens to the sound! I feel her presence on the scene! The summer air is more serene! The deep woods wave in richer green, The wave more gently flows! O fair as Ocean's curling foam! Lo! with the balmy hour I come -- The hour that brings the wanderer home, The weary to repose! Haste! on each mountain's darkening crest The glow hath died, the shadows rest, The twilight star on Deva's breast Gleams tremulously bright; Speed for Myfanwy's bower on high! Though scorn may wound me from her eye, Oh! better by the sun to die, Than live in rayless night! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONLY ONE MOTHER by GEORGE COOPER THE POTATOES' DANCE by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY INDIFFERENCE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE CARD-DEALER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI YOU MAY REMEMBER by LULU PIPER AIKEN TO DUST RETURNING by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH NON EST MEUM, SI MUGIAT AFRICUS MALUS PROCELLIS ... by JOHN BYROM |