And young leaves trembled, as, in fleet career, Save one- Ever in dread of some dark watchful power, Won back to childhood's trust, and, fearless-hearted, Blent the glad fulness of our thoughts that hour, Even like the mingling of sweet streams, beneath Dim woven leaves, and midst the floating breath Of hidden forest flowers. II. 'Tis past!-I wake, A captive, and alone, and far from thee, My love and friend!-yet fostering, for thy sake, A quenchless hope of happiness to be, And feeling still my woman's spirit strong, In the deep faith which lifts from earthly wrong A heavenward glance. I know, I know our love Shall yet call gentle angels from above, By its undying fervour; and prevail, Sending a breath, as of the spring's first gale, I bear, I strive, I bow not to the dust, That I may bring thee back no faded form, But all my youth's first treasures, when we meet, III. And thou too art in bonds!—yet droop thou not, belov'd!—there is one hopeless lot, Oh, my But one, and that not ours. Beside the dead To the grave's bosom, with thy radiant brow,If thy deep-thrilling voice, with that low tone Of earnest tenderness, which now, ev'n now, Seems floating thro' my soul, were music taken For ever from this world,-oh! thus forsaken, Could I bear on?-thou liv'st, thou liv'st, thou'rt mine! -With this glad thought I make my heart a shrine, And, by the lamp which quenchless there shall burn, Sit, a lone watcher for the day's return. IV. And lo! the joy that cometh with the morning, I have not watch'd in vain, serenely scorning Thou hast sent tidings, as of heaven.—I wait The hour, the sign, for blessed flight to thee. Oh! for the skylark's wing that seeks its mate As a star shoots!--but on the breezy sea We shall meet soon. -To think of such an hour! Will not my heart, o'erburdened by its bliss, Faint and give way within me, as a flower Borne down and perishing by noontide's kiss? -Yet shall I fear that lot?—the perfect rest, The full deep joy of dying on thy breast, Too seldom crowns with peace affection's woes. A 2 V. Sunset!-I tell each moment-from the skies The last red splendour floats along my wall, Like a king's banner!-Now it melts, it dies! I see one star-I hear 'twas not the call, Th' expected voice; my quick heart throbb'd too soon. I must keep vigil till yon rising moon Shower down less golden light. Beneath her beam Thro' my lone lattice pour'd, I sit and dream Of summer-lands afar, where holy love, Under the vine, or in the citron-grove, May breathe from terror. Now the night grows deep, And silent as its clouds, and full of sleep. I hear my veins beat.-Hark! a bell's slow chime. My heart strikes with it.-Yet again—'tis time! A step!-a voice!—or but a rising breeze ? -Hark! haste!—I come, to meet thee on the seas. |