Poem by Paul Hamilton Hayne

* * *

PENT in this common sphere of sensual shows,
I pine for beauty; beauty of fresh mien,
And gentle utterance, and the charm serene,
Wherewith the hue of mystic dream-land glows;
I pine for loving music, the repose
Of low-voiced waters, in some realm between
The perfect Adenne, and this clouded scene
Of love's sad loss, and passion's mournful throes;
A pleasant country, girt with twilight calm,
In whose fair heaven a moon of shadowy round
Wades through a fading fall of sunset rain;
Where drooping lotos-flowers, distilling balm,
Gleam by the drowsy streamlets sleep hath crown'd,
While Care forgets to sigh, and Peace hath balsamed Pain.

1. Fate, or God?
2. Aspects of the Pines
3. The Soul-Conflict
4. A Morning after Storm
5. Now, While the Rear-Guard of the Flying Year

Print

1673 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version