  Will ever thy soul awake, Awake and come smiling to greet my own? Will ever the love-light break From thine eyes upon me, like the sun On the billows that shoreward run, Into foam by the winds of the ocean blown? To me seems thy pure soul sleeping. Thou hast in thy heart a bird, But its head is under its wing. I watch it and think with weeping How sweet a song it might sing; Yet by love it is never stirred. Oft in the hush of a drowsy night I dream that I hear that low bird voice Lilting so merrily, Singing so cheerily, Bidding my heart to its depths rejoice; But alas, takes flight My dream before the dawn’s lance of light. Alas, it is not for me To kiss thy soul, as the prince in story Kissed the Sleeping Beauty’s lips, And to a life-love waken thee. Round thee there is a maiden glory Fairer than circles the sun that dips Into the sea while chill night comes creeping Slowly, silently through the sky; But as well might I Reach out my hand to the sun and try To make his glory my very own As think to touch with my finger tips Thy glorious beauty that shrinks from me. |
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