Toggle Dropdown Serif Sans-serif Monospaced Dyslexic Bold Italic Font size: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Mark as read [object Object] Only page of title 141 12 Very Easy "The Poet sings to his Poet" From dawn to dusk, and from dusk to dawn, We two are sundered always, Sweet. A few stars shake o'er the rocky lawn And the cold sea-shore when we meet. The twilight comes with thy shadowy feet. We are not day and night, my Fair, But one. It is an hour of hours. And thoughts that are not otherwhere Are thought here 'mid the blown sea-flowers, This meeting and this dusk of ours. Delight has taken Pain to her heart, And there is dusk and stars for these. O linger, linger! They would not part; And the wild wind comes from over-seas, With a new song to the olive trees. And when we meet by the sounding pine Sleep draws near to his dreamless brother. And when thy sweet eyes answer mine, Peace nestles close to her mournful mother, And Hope and Weariness kiss each other. End of title Sign in to unlock this title Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit. Links External resources bookshop Wikipedia Project Gutenberg Goodreads Google Books
And thoughts that are not otherwhere Are thought here 'mid the blown sea-flowers, This meeting and this dusk of ours.
O linger, linger! They would not part; And the wild wind comes from over-seas, With a new song to the olive trees.
And when thy sweet eyes answer mine, Peace nestles close to her mournful mother, And Hope and Weariness kiss each other.
