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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354922" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To ——</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">LONG ere I knew thee—years of loveless days—<br>A Shape would gather from my dreams and pour<br>The soul-sweet influence of its gentle gaze<br>Into my being, thrilling it to the core,<br>Then would I wake, with lonely heart to pine<br>For that nocturnal image:—it was thine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine—for though long with a fond moody heed<br>I sought to match it with the beauteous creatures<br>I met in the world’s ways, ’twas but to bleed<br>With disappointment; for all forms, all features,<br>Yet left it void of living counterpart—<br>The shadowy Mistress of my yearning heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine—for when first seen thou didst seem to me<br>A being known yet beautifully new!<br>Thus, warranting some sage’s theory,<br>Amid Heaven’s sisterhoods, into shining view<br>Is drawn a long-conjectured star, his name<br>To fold forever in its virgin flame!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I forget! Far, far away from thee<br>Behold, I wander ’mid primeval woods<br>Where but all savage things are wont to be,<br>Mixing fond questionings with Solitude’s<br>Wild cadences, as through dim glades by fits<br>Yet dreaming her ancient dream, illusively she flits.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now the HUNTER, with a swollen speed<br>Rushes in thunder at my feet, but wears<br>A softened charm in that it seems to lead<br>My willing vision whether Memory rears<br>Thy rural bower by the stream that erst<br>With murmurous heed my infant passion nurst.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with the river’s torture, oft a tone<br>Of that far brook seems blending, accents too<br>Of the dear voice there heard—that voice alone<br>Unparagoned of mortal sound, like dew<br>Honeyed with manna, dropping near me seems,<br>As oft I listen—lost in Memory’s dreams!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But vain these musings! Though my spirit’s bride<br>Thou knew’st not of my love! Though all my days<br>To come must be inevitably dyed<br>Or bright or dark through thee—this missive says<br>Thy lot in life is cast, that thou wilt be<br>Another’s ere I look again on thee!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bardic doom is on me! Poets make<br>Beauty immortal and yet luckless miss<br>The charms they sing,—martyrs at Fortune’s stake!<br>As though their soul’s capacity for bliss<br>Might else give Earth too much of Heaven and kill<br>The want that strengthens them for prowess still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wreathe then the Poet’s brows with blossoms bright!<br>Let waters ever, and the sway of trees<br>Sound through his thoughts, as the renewed delight<br>Of Even flows around him in a breeze<br>Laden with dying voices—till the night<br>Enroof him with her starry mysteries!<br>For Nature only (fated at his birth!)<br>May minister unto his love on Earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354922" data-title="To —— de Charles Harpur" data-description="LONG ere I knew thee—years of loveless days—
A Shape would gather from my dreams and pour
The soul-sweet influence of its gentle gaze
Into my being, thrilling it to the core,
Then would I wake, with lonely heart to pine
For that nocturnal imag..."></div>
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