Take this kiss
upon the brow
And, in parting
from you now,
Thus much let me
avow --
You are not
wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
For the night --
tho' clear -- shall frown --
And the stars
shall look not down,
From their high
thrones in the Heaven,
With light like
Hope to mortals given --
But their red
orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness
shall seem
As a burning and
a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever :
But evil things,
in robes of sorrow,
Assailed
the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us
mourn!- for never morrow
Shall
dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about
his home the glory
That
blushed and bloomed,
Is but a
dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
I stand amid the
roar
Of a surf-tormented
shore,
And I hold
within my hand
Grains of the
golden sand --
How few! yet how
they creep
Through my
fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep
