WHEN summer comes, then you are near to me, I feel your phantom presence on my heart, In every wind the dead year speaks again, And every scene springs up to take its part. 'Twas such a day, as sweet a wind arose, To kiss with perfumed lips your brown blown hair; With brow perplexed and that odd smile you had, I wondered what you thought of, standing there. 'Twas here I stooped to pluck a drooping flower, You prayed so foolishly that you might keep; And here you turned a moment's space so cold, I only laughed for fear that I should weep. O phantom love! that haunts me restlessly, That from my passionate hands will ever fly, Fate owes me this, I will pursue and hold, Or, finding you but shadow, let me die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LESSER EPISTLES: TO A YOUNG LADY WITH SOME LAMPREYS by JOHN GAY ON THE NEW FORCES OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT by JOHN MILTON GLORY OF WOMEN by SIEGFRIED SASSOON TO S.M., A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING HIS WORKS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE ROBERT BURNS by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) |