Articles liés à Indian Echoes
Présentation de l'éditeur
One day there flushed a dawn for me That held within its hours A wonder deeper than the sea And sweeter than the flowers; I little knew for I was blind To all the glory breaking How Love upon my threshold shined, To greet me on awaking. But so it was: and half in awe And half in shy misgiving, The Angel of my heart I saw, A form amid the living; And yet were mine the pen to hold Of Love ssurpassing sweetness, The story still were never told In all its dear completeness. For Silence, like a naiad, haunts The springs of Love srecesses, And Love cares less for noisy vaunts Than passionate caresses: The glance of spiritual light, The fine profound cognition Which folds as with a glory bright Two souls in one fruition! Oh! speech in I x)ve, what little worth The subtlest thoughts and dearest! The deepest joys of sky and earth A re nameless when the clean Sowhile to lips of Love shall spring An utterance maimed and broken, A round the inmost heart shall ding The thought supreme unspoken.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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