My Beloved. - Poem by peter adeleke
My dear one, O awake from thy cold-sleep,
Like an opening rose in a summer's call,
With thy soft-lifted strands that oft rise, fall;
Like a tide-stream in a wild-stormy deep.
And in dawn, when dew rests 'pon the grasses,
And fumes of a seasoned-mist folds away,
On trodden weeds, come, when the sun rises;
From the azure-lined sky in the day.
O my love, with thy ribbon-hued raiment,
That billows in air like a queen's garment,
Underneath the blossom pine, yew-tree's shade;
Sit beside me, ere the jocund-climes fade.
O come, like the shadow of the evening,
When the glinted-sun is fading away,
O rise, like the shrubs of mountain-spring;
With thy cone-shaped eyes, so lovely and gay.
Let us haste, with solemn-songs in our mouth,
Through the sleep of ages, lands of the south;
Where plain dewy fogs yield the leaves to green,
And cuckoo flies out of the spangled wood,
O my beloved, let thy cleansed-eyes be seen;
With mild countenance, that brightens the mood.
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