[Editor: This poem by William Blocksidge (also known as William Baylebridge) was published in Songs o’ the South (1908).]
XXI.
Hopeless Love
A vision came to me — so wondrous fair
That all else seemed awhile to hold the breath
And wait its passing, stilled, yea, calm as death —
A vision of blue eyes, and gold-brown hair,
And lips like lovely buds, well-shaped and rare,
Such as where sweetest perfume languisheth,
And cheeks where dust of rubies rare sprinkleth
A crimson dye, nor purity impair!
Dear Heart, that vision haunts my slavèd soul,
The while fond Love in tender measure sings;
Yet fans to bursting flame, with beating wings,
This breast, that all my being would control! —
O Love, why hast thou ’neath thy crimson stole
Such burdened joy, that like of sorrow brings?
Source:
William Blocksidge, Songs o’ the South, London: Watts, 1908, p. 34
Editor’s notes:
hast = (archaic) have
languisheth = (archaic) languishes
’neath = (vernacular) beneath
sprinkleth = (archaic) sprinkle
stole = a long scarf, especially one made of fur; shawl; vestment
thou = (archaic) you
thy = (archaic) your
yea = yes; indeed; truly; an affirmation (especially an affirmative vote), an indication of assent
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