|
The Poet´s Dream .....
On a Poet's lips I slept, Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept; Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses. He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of Immortality!. |
 |
|
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last, Was Time long past. There were sweet dreams in the night Of Time long past: And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast Which made us wish it yet might last-- That Time long past. There is regret, almost remorse, For Time long past. 'Tis like a child's belovèd corse A father watches, till at last Beauty is like remembrance, cast From Time long past. |
O world! O life! O time!
 |