[Editor: This poem by William Blocksidge (also known as William Baylebridge) was published in Songs o’ the South (1908).]
XXV.
Send, O Cynthia!
Send, O Cynthia, send thy beams
To light my way by the woodland streams,
Where sweet is the slumber that fills the vale,
And fragrant the perfume the flowers exhale!
Send, O Cynthia, send thy beams
To brighten the watery gem that gleams
On each green leaf of a thousand trees,
As they rock their branches above the breeze!
Send, O Cynthia, send thy beams,
For solemn their light, and it peaceful seems!
And O, how sad is this heart of mine!
Then send thy beams, with their light divine!
Send, O Cynthia, send thy beams
To show the mound where my true-love dreams!
For there, ’neath the shade of an elm, she lies —
Her pillow the sod, and her vault the skies!
Source:
William Blocksidge, Songs o’ the South, London: Watts, 1908, p. 37
Editor’s notes:
’neath = (vernacular) beneath
sod = earth, dirt, soil (especially with grass on it); turf; a section of grassy area cut out of the earth, usually cut out in a rectangular or square shape
thy = (archaic) your
vale = valley
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