Poems (Griffith)/To ——— ———
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To ——— ———
IDO not love thee, yet why does thy calm
Sweet smile forever haunt my dreams, and why
Do thy dark eyes beam gloriously on mine
Like bright stars from the midnight heaven of sleep
No tone of sweetest music ever falls
Upon my ear at gentle eve but breathes
The music of thy voice; no silver wave
E'er murmurs at my feet but seems to glass
Thy face and form; no lovely blossom springs
Beside my lonely pathway but exhales
The perfume of thy breath.
Sweet smile forever haunt my dreams, and why
Do thy dark eyes beam gloriously on mine
Like bright stars from the midnight heaven of sleep
No tone of sweetest music ever falls
Upon my ear at gentle eve but breathes
The music of thy voice; no silver wave
E'er murmurs at my feet but seems to glass
Thy face and form; no lovely blossom springs
Beside my lonely pathway but exhales
The perfume of thy breath.
When thou art near,
My thrilling spirit seems a universe
Of happiness and beauty. Blessed dreams
Of airy loveliness float through my soul;
A chastened splendor rests upon my life,
As a soft pillar of the moonlight rests
Upon the deep; and a soft glory comes
From thy sweet presence o'er my heart, to charm
My senses into worship.
My thrilling spirit seems a universe
Of happiness and beauty. Blessed dreams
Of airy loveliness float through my soul;
A chastened splendor rests upon my life,
As a soft pillar of the moonlight rests
Upon the deep; and a soft glory comes
From thy sweet presence o'er my heart, to charm
My senses into worship.
On thy brow
I read the might of lofty intellect,
And I have listened with a panting heart
To thy high words of music and of pride,
And bowed my soul in homage to thy power,
Thou glorious son of genius. Every star
That trembles in the blue empyrean, seems
A torch to light thy spirit's sweeping track
Through Heaven's serene abyss; and holy night
Seems but a stole of solemn hue thrown round
The radiance of thy soul.
I read the might of lofty intellect,
And I have listened with a panting heart
To thy high words of music and of pride,
And bowed my soul in homage to thy power,
Thou glorious son of genius. Every star
That trembles in the blue empyrean, seems
A torch to light thy spirit's sweeping track
Through Heaven's serene abyss; and holy night
Seems but a stole of solemn hue thrown round
The radiance of thy soul.
Thou art afar,
I know not where, but still the arches lone
Of Memory's sacred temple are illumed
By the pure, blessed brilliancy they caught
From thy dear presence, and they echo yet
Thy voice's spirit-music, till the air
Grows tremulous with joy. The wanderers o'er
The bright realms of the rosy Hesperus,
Ne'er revelled in an atmosphere of bliss
Like that which thrills around me with the spell
Of thy remembered cadences.
I know not where, but still the arches lone
Of Memory's sacred temple are illumed
By the pure, blessed brilliancy they caught
From thy dear presence, and they echo yet
Thy voice's spirit-music, till the air
Grows tremulous with joy. The wanderers o'er
The bright realms of the rosy Hesperus,
Ne'er revelled in an atmosphere of bliss
Like that which thrills around me with the spell
Of thy remembered cadences.
And yet
I love thee not. I only ask to look
With thee upon the heavens that roll serene
And beautiful above; to sit and gaze
On the same stars thou gazest on, and send
My soul to thine when slumber's midnight dews
Have fallen on thy blue-veined lids, and hushed
Thy heart to rest. Oh I would love to flit,
The spirit of the zephyr, through thy dreams,
Waking to beauty and to melody
Thy fancy's wild and leaping waves; to glide,
A star-beam, through thy softly-shadowed soul,
Flinging a glory o'er thy sleeping world;
To murmur like a voice from out the air
Within thy dreaming ear, and blend my thoughts
With thy own thoughts of flame.
I love thee not. I only ask to look
With thee upon the heavens that roll serene
And beautiful above; to sit and gaze
On the same stars thou gazest on, and send
My soul to thine when slumber's midnight dews
Have fallen on thy blue-veined lids, and hushed
Thy heart to rest. Oh I would love to flit,
The spirit of the zephyr, through thy dreams,
Waking to beauty and to melody
Thy fancy's wild and leaping waves; to glide,
A star-beam, through thy softly-shadowed soul,
Flinging a glory o'er thy sleeping world;
To murmur like a voice from out the air
Within thy dreaming ear, and blend my thoughts
With thy own thoughts of flame.
Then thou wouldst feel
My kisses on thy lip, and my young heart
Pressed to thy throbbing bosom as I watched
O'er thy unguarded hours, but yet no spell,
Flung on thy sweetly-troubled sleep, should haunt
Thy waking life with its remembered charm.
Ha! what wild power is this that fills my soul,
Holding thought, feeling, ay, my very life,
In its resistless thrall? 'Tis strangely sweet,
Yet there is madness in its influence,
And with a trembling soul and frame I bow
To its mysterious mastery. Oh, unchain
Thy victim, strong and beauteous spirit, take
Thy magic fetter from my soul; unbind
My wing and leave me free, as I have been,
To wander with the birds, the waves, the winds,
The clouds, the stars, where'er I list, o'er earth
And through the blue and boundless cope of Heaven.
My kisses on thy lip, and my young heart
Pressed to thy throbbing bosom as I watched
O'er thy unguarded hours, but yet no spell,
Flung on thy sweetly-troubled sleep, should haunt
Thy waking life with its remembered charm.
Ha! what wild power is this that fills my soul,
Holding thought, feeling, ay, my very life,
In its resistless thrall? 'Tis strangely sweet,
Yet there is madness in its influence,
And with a trembling soul and frame I bow
To its mysterious mastery. Oh, unchain
Thy victim, strong and beauteous spirit, take
Thy magic fetter from my soul; unbind
My wing and leave me free, as I have been,
To wander with the birds, the waves, the winds,
The clouds, the stars, where'er I list, o'er earth
And through the blue and boundless cope of Heaven.
Louisville, Ky, January 6, 1852.