TO ——1The bowers whereat, in dreams, I seeThe wantonest singing birdsAre lips—and all thy melodyOf lip-begotten words—2Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin’dThen desolately fall,O! God! on my funereal mindLike starlight on a pall—3Thy heart—thyheart!—I wake and sigh,And sleep to dream till dayOf truth that gold can never buy—Of the trifles that it may.1829.
1The bowers whereat, in dreams, I seeThe wantonest singing birdsAre lips—and all thy melodyOf lip-begotten words—2Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin’dThen desolately fall,O! God! on my funereal mindLike starlight on a pall—3Thy heart—thyheart!—I wake and sigh,And sleep to dream till dayOf truth that gold can never buy—Of the trifles that it may.
1829.