|
NIGHTLY I watch the moon with silvery sheen Flaking the city house-tops, till I feel Thy memory, Rosa, like a presence, steal Down in her light: for ever in her mien Thy soul’s similitude my soul hath seen! And as she seemeth now a guardian seal On Heaven’s far bliss, upon my future weal Even such thy truth is—radiantly serene! But long my fancy may not entertain These bright resemblances—for, lo, a cloud Blots her away, and in my breast the pain Of absent love, recurring, pines aloud! When shall I look in thy sweet eyes again,— Rosa, when cheer thee with like sadness bowed?
Wherever in some wildwood bower |