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EURYDICE
I HEAR thy voice!—
Ah, love, I hear thy voice!
Faint as the sound of distant waters falling,
I hear thy voice above me calling, calling,—
And my imprisoned heart,
Long held from thee apart,
Responsive thrills, half-tempted to rejoice.
In Hades though I be,
Where the unnumbered dead abide
In uneventful, sunless eventide,
I yet live on,—for thou rememberest me!
And like to far-off waters falling,
I hear thee, from the distance, calling,—
Eurydice! Beloved Eurydice!
In thy bright world I know,
The firstlings of the Spring begin to blow:
Moss-violet and saffron daffodil
Their perfumes new distil,
And through the veiled elysian hours,—
Sweeter for wafted scent of citron-flowers,—
Voices of nightingales soft come and go.
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