And the young moon dropped from heaven, And the lights hid one by one. All silently their glances "Wait till I come to thee!" HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. HERO TO LEANDER. OH! go not yet my love, And the waves climb high and fast. My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the main. Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs, So gladly doth it stir; Thine eye in drops of gladness swims, I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh; Thy locks are dripping balm; I'll stay thee with my kisses. No western odors wander On the black and moaning sea, And when thou art dead, Leander, My soul must follow thee! Oh! go not yet, my love, Thy voice is sweet and low; The deep salt wave breaks in above TENNYSON. |