74
siri, the swimmer.—miss bremer.
I hear his gentle, wooing tone,—
I come, my lord, I haste!
Now are his arms about me thrown,
They circle round my waist!
Their fond clasp brings no fearful chill;
Mine own extended wide,
I fling myself, with a joyful thrill,
On the bosom of the tide!
I come, my lord, I haste!
Now are his arms about me thrown,
They circle round my waist!
Their fond clasp brings no fearful chill;
Mine own extended wide,
I fling myself, with a joyful thrill,
On the bosom of the tide!
O, what delicious coolness flows
Through every quivering vein!
Fresh as a water-lily grows
My fevered heart again!
The spray leaps up to plash my brow!
My long hair, unconfined,
Is flung, like some young Nereid's, now
To tossing wave and wind!
Through every quivering vein!
Fresh as a water-lily grows
My fevered heart again!
The spray leaps up to plash my brow!
My long hair, unconfined,
Is flung, like some young Nereid's, now
To tossing wave and wind!
A new and glorious life is mine,—
I seem to float through heaven,
And mark far down its blue depths shine
The golden stars of even!
Now farther from the shadowy shore,
Right cheerily away!
See, like the plashing of an oar,
My tireless arras' quick play!
I seem to float through heaven,
And mark far down its blue depths shine
The golden stars of even!
Now farther from the shadowy shore,
Right cheerily away!
See, like the plashing of an oar,
My tireless arras' quick play!
