. The poetical works of James Russell Lowell . Full of bliss she takes the token, And, upon her snowy breast,Soothes the ruflfled petals broken With the oceans fierce unrest. Love is thine, 0 heart ! and surely Peace shall also be thine own,For the heart that trusteth purely Never long can pine alone. In his tower sits the poet. Blisses new and strange to himFill his heart and overfiow it With a wonder sweet and the beach the ocean slideth With a whisper of the moon in silence glideth Through the peaceful blue of oer the poets shoulder Flows a maidens golden h
. The poetical works of James Russell Lowell . Full of bliss she takes the token, And, upon her snowy breast,Soothes the ruflfled petals broken With the oceans fierce unrest. Love is thine, 0 heart ! and surely Peace shall also be thine own,For the heart that trusteth purely Never long can pine alone. In his tower sits the poet. Blisses new and strange to himFill his heart and overfiow it With a wonder sweet and the beach the ocean slideth With a whisper of the moon in silence glideth Through the peaceful blue of oer the poets shoulder Flows a maidens golden li])s, with love grown bolder, Kiss his moon-lit forehead bare. Life is joy, and love is power, Death all fetters doth imbind,Strength and wisdom only flower When WC toil for all our is truth, — the future giveth More than ]iresent takes away,And the soul forever liveth Nearer God from day to a word the maiden uttered. Fullest heaits are slow to speak,But a withered rose-leaf fluttered Down upon the poets ^e. SONG. — KOSALINE. SONG. Violet ! sweet violet !Thine eyes are full of tears ;Are they wetEven yetWith the thought of other years ?Or with gladness are they full,For the night so beautiful,And longing for those far-off spheres ? Loved one of my youth tlion ni) merry youth,And I ,All the fair and sunny its openness and truth,Ever fresh and green in theeAs the moss is in the sea. Thy little heart, that hath with loveGrown colored like the sky which thou lookest ever, —Can it knowAll the woeOf hope for what returueth the sorrow and the longingTo these hearts of ours belonging ? Out on it ! no foolish pining For the sky Dims thine eye,Or for the stars so calmly shining ;Like thee let this soul of mineTake hue from that wherefor I and high, serene and satisfied with hoping — but divine. Violet! dear violet ! Thy blue eyes are only wetWith joy and lov
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidpoeticalwork, bookyear1884
