poet Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy

#51 on top 500 poets

Song From Heine

I scanned her picture dreaming,
   Till each dear line and hue
Was imaged, to my seeming,
   As if it lived anew.

Her lips began to borrow
   Their former wondrous smile;
Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow,
   Grew sparkling as erstwhile.

Such tears as often ran not
   Ran then, my love, for thee;
And O, believe I cannot
   That thou are lost to me!

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003

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Read poems about / on: believe, sorrow, smile, lost, song, love, running, dream