James Bayard Taylor Poems

FROM the Desert I come to thee
On a stallion shod with fire;
And the winds are left behind
In the speed of my desire.
...

“GIVE us a song!” the soldiers cried,
The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated guns of the camps allied
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Not as in youth, with steps outspeeding morn,
And cheeks all bright from rapture of the way,
But in strange mood, half cheerful, half forlorn,
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Little one come to my knee !
Hark how the rain is pouring
Over the roof in the pitch dark night,
And the winds in the woods a-roaring
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FORESEEN in the vision of sages,
Foretold when martyrs bled,
She was born of the longing of ages,
By the truth of the noble dead
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The clouds are scudding across the moon;
A misty light is on the sea;
The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune,
And the foam is flying free.
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After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake
Here, from the shadows of impending death,
Those words of solemn breath,
What voice may fitly break
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DAUGHTER of Egypt, veil thine eyes!
I cannot bear their fire;
Nor will I touch with sacrifice
Those altars of desire.
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DAUGHTER of Egypt, veil thine eyes!
I cannot bear their fire;
Nor will I touch with sacrifice
Those altars of desire.
...

Side by side in the crowded streets,
Amid its ebb and flow,
We walked together one autumn morn;
('Twas many years ago!)
...