Here's to her who wore The myrtle-wreath that bound me; Here's to her who bore The twine of bay that crowned me:''" O, had not her light So brightly shone upon me, Still the cloud of night Had darkly brooded on me; There was in her eye A spirit that inspired me; Still to do or die, The electric sparkle fired me; And though the ice of death Should chill the heart within me, The music of her breath Back to life again would win me; So here's to her who wore The myrtle-wreath that bound me; The girl who kindly bore The twine of bay that crowned me. No more the iron chain Of doubt and fear inthralls me; I lift my wing again, For 'tis her voice that calls me; Still higher, higher still, In search of glory soaring, I feel my bosom thrill To the song her voice is pouring; And though I stretch my flight, Where heaven alone is o'er me, I see her form of light Still floating on before me: O, when foes the direst move In columns to assail us, Let us hear the voice of love, And our courage cannot fail us: So here's to her, &c. And when my drowsy soul A heedless moment slumbers, Away the vapors roll At the magic of her numbers; Back to life again I start, At her thrilling summons waking, Every link that bound my heart Down to earth, indignant breaking; Then I follow where she flies, Like a shooting star, before me, And her fascinating eyes Shed their fire in flashes o'er me: O, cold the heart could sleep When her silver trumpet called it, And the soul that would not leap When her flowery chain enthralled it: So here's to her who wore The myrtle-wreath that bound me; The girl who kindly bore The twine of bay that crowned me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT ONE TO SPARE by ETHEL LYNN BEERS IN JANUARY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SEVEN TIMES SIX [ - GIVING IN MARRIAGE] by JEAN INGELOW POETASTER: SONG (4) by BEN JONSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 51 by ALFRED TENNYSON ON THOSE THAT HATED 'THE PLAYBOY OF THE WESTERN WORLD' by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |