In the Night

Earth like a Lover poor and low
Feasts on Night's queenly beauty now;
While I, with burning heart and brow,
Awake to weep for thee, Love!
The spangled glories of the Night,
The Moon that walks in soft, white light.
These cannot win my charm 6 d sight,
Or lure a thought from thee, Love!

I'm thinking o'er the short, sweet hour,
Our fond hearts felt Love's growth of power,
And summer'd as in Eden's bower,
When I was blest with thee, Love!
There burn'd no beauty on the trees,
There woke no song of birds or bees,
But Love's cup for us held no lees,
And I was blest with thee, Love.

Then grand and golden fancies spring
From out my heart on splendid wing,
Like Chrysalis from Life's wintering, —
Burst bright and summeringly, Love!
And as a Chief of battle lost
Counts, and recounts his stricken host,
Stands tearful Memory making most
Of all that's toucht with thee, Love.

Perchance in Pleasure's brilliant bower
Thy heart may half forget Love's power,
But at this still and starry hour
Does it not turn to me, Love!
O, by all pangs for thy sweet sake,
In my deep love thy heart-thirst slake,
Or, all-too-full, my heart must break:
Break! break! with loving thee, Love!