Grace Greenwood

1823-1904 / the USA

A Lay

THE glorious queen of heaven, who flings
Her royal radiance round me now,
As with clasped hands and upturned brow
I watch her pathway fair and free,
Is not so silvery with the light
She pours o'er darkened earth to-night
As in the gentle thoughts she brings
Of thee, dear love, of thee!

The night-wind trembling round the rose,
The starlight floating on the river,
The fearful aspen's silvery shiver,
The dew-drop glistening on the lea,
Night's pure baptism to the flowers, —
All, all bring back our dear, lost hours,
Till every heart-string thrills and glows
For thee, dear love, for thee!

And when dawn wakes the Earth with song,
And Nature's heart, so hushed to-night,
Goes leaping in the morning light, —
While waves flash onward to the sea, —
While perfumed dews to heaven arise, —
While glory flushes o'er the skies, —
Still through my soul shall sweet thoughts throng
Of thee, dear love, of thee!

Ah, thou beloved, whose heart hath thrilled
To blessed dreams and joys with mine,
What power shall change thy love divine,
Or shut its presence out from me, —
Since all bright things, from flower to star,
Its types and sweet reminders are
To this fond heart, this soul so filled
With thee, dear love, with thee!

We part not, though we said adieu.
Since first thy thoughts chimed in with mine,
And from those wondrous eyes of thine
A heaven of love looked down on me,
My very life round thine is poured, —
Thy words within my soul I hoard, —
Still true, in every heart-throb true,
To thee, dear love, to thee!
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