A Remembrance

I see thee still! Thou art not dead,
Though dust is mingled with thy form;
The broken sunbeam hath not shed
The final rainbow on the storm:
In visions of the midnight deep,
Thine accents through my bosom thrill
Till joy's fond impulse bids me weep -
For, wrapt in thought, I see thee still!

I see thee still - that cheeck of rose -
Those lips with dewy fragrance wet -
That forehead in serene repose -
Those soul-lit eyes - I see them yet!
Sweet seraph! Sure thou art not dead,
Thou gracest still this earthly sphere;
An influence still is round me shed,
Like thine - and yet thou art not here!

Farewell, beloved! To mortal sight
Thy vermeil cheek no more may bloom;
No more thy smiles inspire delight,
For thou art garnered in the tomb -
Rich harvest for that ruthless power
Which hath me bound to bear his will:
Yet, as in hope's unclouded hour,
Throned in my heart I see thee still.

This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page