Alaric Alexander Watts Poems

A cloud is on my heart and brow,
The tears are in my eyes,
And wishes fond, all idle now,
Are stifled into sighs;—
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The present moment's all our own,
The next, who ever saw! ~ Mickle.

Come, fill me up a brimming cup,
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Murmurings from within
Were heard, sonorous cadences, whereby
To his belief the monitor expressed
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I've roamed the wide world over,
From Indus to the Pole;
I've been a general lover,
And loved with all my soul;
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Meet me at sunset, the hour we love best,
Ere day's last crimson blushes have died in the west;
When the shadowless ether is blue as thine eye,
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Oh, burst the bonds of slumber,
Beloved, awake, ari ...
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Mysterious keeper of the key
That opes the gates of Memory,
Oft, in thy wildest, simplest strain,
We live o'er years of bliss again!
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It was the dead midnight;
No star was in the sky;
The struggling moon shed a troubled light
As she won her way on high;
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It is the same clear dazzling scene,
Perhaps the grass is scarce as green;
Perhaps the river's troubled voice,
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O! it is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
To make the shifting clouds be what you please. ~
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