DEAREST, thy discourses steal From my bosom's deep, my heart How can I from thee conceal My delight, my sorrow's smart? Dearest, when I hear thy lyre From its chains my soul is free. To the holy angel quire From the earth, O let us flee! Dearest, how thy music's charms Waft me dancing through the sky! Let me round thee clasp my arms, Lest in glory I should die! Dearest, sunny wreaths I wear, Twined around me by thy lay. For thy garlands, rich and rare, O how can I thank thee? Say! Like the angels I would be Without mortal frame, Whose sweet converse is like thought, Sounding with acclaim; Or like flowers in the dale; Like the stars that glow, Whose love-song's a beam, whose words Like sweet odors flow; Or like to the breeze of morn, Waving round its rose, In love's dallying caress Melting as it blows. But the love-lorn nightingale Melteth not away; She doth but with longing tones Chant her plaintive lay. I am, too, a nightingale, Songless though I sing; 'Tis my pen that speaks, though ne'er In the ear it ring. Beaming images of thought Doth the pen portray; But without thy gentle smile Lifeless e'er are they. As thy look falls on the leaf, It begins to sing, And the prize that's due to love In her ear doth ring. Like a Memmon's statue now Every letter seems, Which in music wakes, when kissed By the morning's beams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAESAR'S LOST TRANSPORT SHIPS by ROBERT FROST THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN BENEDICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GETHSEMANE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |