48
POEMS.
I.
O Love, Love, Love! oh, withering might!
O sun, that at thy noonday height
Shudderest, when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light!
Lo! falling from my constant mind,
Lo! parched and withered, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.
O Love, Love, Love! oh, withering might!
O sun, that at thy noonday height
Shudderest, when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light!
Lo! falling from my constant mind,
Lo! parched and withered, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.
II.
Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood, that went and came,
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shivered in my narrow frame.
Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood, that went and came,
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shivered in my narrow frame.
