The heavy hours are almost past That part my love and me: My longing eyes may hope at last Their only wish to see. But how, my Delia, will you meet The man you've lost so long? Will love in all your pulses beat, And tremble on your tongue? Will you in every look declare Your heart is still the same; And heal each idly-anxious care Our fears in absence frame? Thus, Delia, thus I paint the scene, When shortly we shall meet; And try what yet remains between Of loitering time to cheat. But if the dream that soothes my mind Shall false and groundless prove; If I am doomed at length to find You have forgot to love; All I of Venus ask, is this; No more to let us join: But grant me here the flattering bliss, To die, and think you mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHURCHILL'S GRAVE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A DAY: AN EPISTLE TO JOHN WILKES, OF AYLESBURY, ESQ. by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE CITY: 2. THE CITY by STIRLING BOWEN TWILIGHT TIME by MILDRED SOUTHWORTH BRYAN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: SMALL PEOPLE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE BUSH-SPARROW by JOHN BURROUGHS |