SHE sung of love—while o'er her lyre The rosy rays of evening fell, As if to feed with their soft fire The soul within that trembling shell. The same rich light hung o'er her cheek, And played around those lips that sung And spoke, as flowers would sing and speak, If love could lend their leaves a tongue. But soon the west no longer burned, Each rosy ray from heaven withdrew; And when to gaze again I turned, The minstrel's form seemed fading too. As if @3her@1 light and heaven's were one, The glory all had left that frame; And from her glimmering lips the tone, As from a parting spirit, came. Who ever loved, but had the thought That he and all he loved must part? Filled with this fear, I flew and caught That fading image to my heart— And cried, 'O Love! is this thy doom? O light of youth's resplendent day! Must ye then lose your golden bloom, And thus like sunshine die away?' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHRINE OF VENUS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON TO A HUMMING BIRD by GLADYS ARNE THE OLD GHOST by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE POET'S WIFE by JESSICA BELL INVULNERABLE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET INACCESSIBILITY IN THE BATTLEFIELD by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO THE READER by RICHARD CRASHAW |