POEMS.
109
Would thrill this pulse and fire this eye
With wild delight, and bid me rise
Above myself to brighter skies,
Whose glories do not fade or die.
With wild delight, and bid me rise
Above myself to brighter skies,
Whose glories do not fade or die.
Just one last gleam o'er flow'r and tree
Tells that the night is nigh at hand,
With her still beauty, soft, yet grand,
Enfolding earth and sky and sea.
Tells that the night is nigh at hand,
With her still beauty, soft, yet grand,
Enfolding earth and sky and sea.
So gently pass away, fair day,
In blood-red grandeur to thy rest,
Like some old warrior's waving crest,
Gleaming in splendour far away.
In blood-red grandeur to thy rest,
Like some old warrior's waving crest,
Gleaming in splendour far away.
BESSIE'S WEDDING.
(May 9th, 1885.)
BRIGHTLY dawned the sweet May morning
Brighter sun did never rise,
From a bank of crimson cushions
Spread far out on azure skies.
Brighter sun did never rise,
From a bank of crimson cushions
Spread far out on azure skies.
Flowers were bursting into blossom,
Very sweet they smelt in truth,
And the young leaves danced and trembled
In the magic of their youth.
Very sweet they smelt in truth,
And the young leaves danced and trembled
In the magic of their youth.
