TO DAVID IN HEAVEN. 1. Lo! the slow moon foaming Thro' fleecy mists of gloaming, Furrowing with pearly front the jewel-powder'd sky! Lo, the bridge moss-laden, Arch'd like foot of maiden, And on the bridge, in silence, looking upward, you and I! Lo, the pleasant season Of reaping and of mowing— The foam-fringed moon above,-beneath, the river duskily flowing! 2. Violet-colour'd shadows, Blown from scented meadows, Float o'er us to the pine-wood dark from yonder blue corn-ridge; The little river gushes Thro' shady sedge and rushes, And gray gnats murmur o'er the pools, beneath the mossy bridge;— And you and I stand darkly, O'er the keystone leaning, And watch the pale mesmeric moon, in the time of gleaners and gleaning. 3. Do I dream, I wonder? As, sitting sadly under A lonely roof in London, thro' the grim square pane I gaze? Here of thee I ponder, In a dream, and yonder The pale streets seem to stir and breathe beneath the white moon's rays. By the vision cherish'd, By the dark hope bravéd, Do I but dream a hopeless dream, in the city that slew you, David ? |