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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533729" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At the Opera</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE CURTAIN rose—the play began—<br> The limelight on the gay garbs shone;<br> Yet carelessly I gazed upon<br>The painted players, maid and man,<br> As one with idle eyes who sees<br> The marble figures on a frieze. <br>Long lark-notes clear the first act close,<br> So the soprano: then a hush—<br> The tenor, tender as a thrush;<br>Then loud and high the chorus rose,<br> Till, with a sudden rush and strong,<br> It ended in a storm of song. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The curtain fell—the music died—<br> The lights grew bright, revealing there<br> The flash of jewelled fingers fair,<br>And wreaths of pearls on brows of pride;<br> Then, with a quick-flushed cheek, I turned,<br> And into mine her dark eyes burned. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such eyes but once a man may see,<br> And, seeing once, his fancy dies<br> To thought of any other eyes:<br>So shadow-soft, they seemed to be<br> Twin haunted lakes, lit by the gleams<br> Of a mysterious moon of dreams. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silk lashes veiled their liquid light<br> With such a shade as tall reeds fling<br> From the lake-marge at sunsetting:<br>Their darkness might have hid the night—<br> Yet whoso saw their glance would say<br> Night dreamt therein, and saw the day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long looked I at them, wondering<br> What tender memories were hid<br> Beneath each blue-veined lily-lid;<br>What hopes of joys the years would bring;<br> What griefs? In vain: I might not guess<br> The secret of their silentness. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What of her face? Her face, meseems,<br> Was such as painters see who muse<br> By moonlight in dim avenues,<br>Yet cannot paint; or as in dreams,<br> Young poets see, but, when they try<br> To limn in verse are dumb—so I. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet well I know that I have seen<br> That sweet face in the long ago<br> In a rose-bower—well I know—<br>Laughing the singing leaves between,<br> In that strange land of rose and rhyme—<br> The land of Once upon a Time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O unknown sweet, so sweetly known,<br> I know not what your name may be—<br> Madonna is your name for me—<br>Nor where your lines in life are thrown;<br> But soul sees soul—what is the rest?<br> A passing phantom at the best. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Did your young bosom never glow<br> To love? or burns your heart beneath<br> As burns the rosebud in its sheath?<br>I neither know nor wish to know:<br> I smell the rose upon the tree;<br> Who will may pluck and wear, for me— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">May wear the rose, and watch it die,<br> And, leaf by red leaf, fade and fall,<br> Till there be nothing left at all<br>Of its sweet loveliness; but I<br> Love it so well, I leave it free—<br> The scent alone I take with me! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As one who visits sacred spots<br> Brings tokens back, so I from you<br> A glance, a smile, a rapture new!<br>And these are my forget-me-nots!<br> I take from you but only these—<br> Give all the rest to whom you please. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet eyes, your glance a light shall cast<br> On me, when dreaded ghosts arise<br> Of dead regrets with shrouded eyes,<br>And phantoms of the perished past,<br> Old thoughts, old hopes, and old desire<br> Gather around my lonely fire! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell! In rhyme, I kiss your hand—<br> Kiss not unsweet, although unheard!—<br> This is our secret—say no word—<br>That I have been in Fairyland,<br> And seen for one brief moment’s space<br> The Queen Titania face to face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+James+Daley">Victor James Daley</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=533729" data-title="At the Opera de Victor James Daley" data-description="THE CURTAIN rose—the play began—
 The limelight on the gay garbs shone;
 Yet carelessly I gazed upon
The painted players, maid and man,
 As one with idle eyes who sees
 The marble figures on a frieze. 
Long lark-notes clear the first act close..."></div>
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