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Poem by Sidney Lanier


The Dove


If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn,
Shouldst call along the curving sphere, Remain,
Dear Night, sweet Moor; nay, leave me not in scorn!
With soft halloos of heavenly love and pain; --

Shouldst thou, O Spring! a-cower in coverts dark,
Gainst proud supplanting Summer sing thy plea,
And move the mighty woods through mailed bark
Till mortal heart-break throbbed in every tree; --

Or (grievous `if that may be `yea oer-soon!),
If thou, my Heart, long holden from thy Sweet,
Shouldst knock Deaths door with mellow shocks of tune,
Sad inquiry to make -- `When may we meet?

Nay, if ye three, O Morn! O Spring! O Heart!
Should chant grave unisons of grief and love;
Ye could not mourn with more melodious art
Than daily doth yon dim sequestered dove.



Sidney Lanier


Sidney Lanier's other poems:
  1. A Sea-Shore Grave. To M. J. L.
  2. A Song of the Future
  3. Strange Jokes
  4. Martha Washington
  5. Nilsson


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