The Poems of Sidney Lanier by Sidney Lanier
page 126 of 312 (40%)
page 126 of 312 (40%)
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He called thee `Sometime'. Change it, friend:
`Now-time' sounds so much more fine! Sweet Sometime, fly fast to me: Poor Now-time sits in the Lonesome-tree And broods as gray as any dove, And calls, `When wilt thou come, O Love?' And pleads across the waste to thee. Good Moment, that giv'st him me, Wast ever in love? Maybe, maybe Thou'lt be this heavenly velvet time When Day and Night as rhyme and rhyme Set lip to lip dusk-modestly; Or haply some noon afar, -- O life's top bud, mixt rose and star, How ever can thine utmost sweet Be star-consummate, rose-complete, Till thy rich reds full opened are? Well, be it dusk-time or noon-time, I ask but one small boon, Time: Come thou in night, come thou in day, I care not, I care not: have thine own way, But only, but only, come soon, Time. ____ Baltimore, 1875. |
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