Elizabeth Singer Rowe
A Paraphrase On The Canticles. Chapter Vi. - Poem by Elizabeth Singer Rowe
But where, ah where can this bright wonder be?
For, till we see Him, we are all on Fire;
We'll find Him out, or in the search Expire.
If my Prophetick Hopes can rightly guess,
The Lovely Wanderer in his Garden is
Among the Lillies, and the Spices; He
Is now perhaps kindly expecting Me;
Oh 'tis a Heaven of Joy to think him Mine.
Comments about A Paraphrase On The Canticles. Chapter Vi. by Elizabeth Singer Rowe
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You