Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/170

Are clear and still once more!—Wilt thou look forth?
Now, while the sunset, with low streaming light—
The light thou lov'st—hath made the elm-wood stems
All burning bronze, the river molten gold!
Wilt thou be rais'd upon thy couch, to meet
The rich air fill'd with wandering scents and sounds?
Or shall I lay thy dear, dear head once more
On this true bosom, lulling thee to rest
With our own evening hymn?

Eugene.Not now, dear love,
My soul is wakeful—lingering to look forth,
Not on the sun, but thee!—Doth the light sleep
On the stream tenderly? and are the stems
Of our own elm trees, by its alchemy,
So richly chang'd? and is the sweet-brier scent
Floating around?—But I have said farewell,
Farewell to earth, Teresa!—not to thee;
Nor yet to our deep love, nor yet awhile