IN vision once more young and happy, paced I Near the old country house that used to stand Hard by the mountain; down the pathway raced I, Yes, raced with dear Ottilia, hand in hand. How graceful was her figure! She enchanted With the sweet magic of her sea-green eyes; On her small feet how firmly was she planted, A form where elegance with vigour vies! Her voice's tone, how true and how confiding! Her spirit's inmost depth one seems to see; Wisdom her every word is ever guiding, Her mouth's as like a rosebud as can be. It is not pangs of love that now steal o'er me, I wander not, my reason's in command; Yet strangely am I soften'd, as before me She stands, with trembling warmth I kiss her hand. When I a lily from the stem had broken, I gave it her, and then these words address'd; "Ottilia, be my wife by this dear token, "That I may be as good as thee, and blest." The answer that she gave, it reach'd me never, For presently I woke, -- and now lie here In my sick chamber, weak and ill as ever -- As I have hopeless lain for many a year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN HARDWOOD GROVES by ROBERT FROST LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI by JOHN KEATS SWEET MEETING OF DESIRES by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE ODE ON SOLITUDE (FINAL PRINTED VERSION) by ALEXANDER POPE PARAPHRASE ON THOMAS A KEMPIS by ALEXANDER POPE PROVINCIA DESERTA by EZRA POUND |