IN the deep silence of the garden-bowers Only the stealthy zephyr glides and goes, Rifling the secret of @3sirisha@1 flowers, And to the new-born hours Bequeathes the subtle anguish of the rose. Pain-weary and dream-worn I lie awake, Counting like beads the blazing stars o'erhead; Round me the wind-stirred champak branches shake Blossoms that fall and break In perfumed rain across my lonely bed. Long ere the sun's first far-off beacons shine, Or her prophetic clarions call afar, The gorgeous planets wither and decline, Save in its eastern shrine, Unquenched, unchallenged, the proud morning star. O glorious light of hope beyond all reach! O lovely symbol and sweet sign of him Whose voice I yearn to hear in tender speech To comfort me or teach, Before whose gaze thy golden fires grow dim! I care not what brave splendours bloom or die So thou dost burn in thine appointed place, Supreme in the still dawn-uncoloured sky, And daily grant that I May in thy flame adore His hidden face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONLY ONE MOTHER by GEORGE COOPER THOSE VARIOUS SCALPELS by MARIANNE MOORE LONGFELLOW by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY NIOBE: THE GODS' CHILDREN by AESCHYLUS AT PARTING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS A PREPARATORY HYMNE TO THE WEEK OF MEDITACIONS UPON, & DEVOUT EXERCISE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |