Part 4 — A CHARM.
Reading edition
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BY A. J. REQUIER.
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I know not why a touch can thrill
The soul, till it doth seem
A single drop would overfill
Her pleasurable dream.
I know not, yet such moments are
Of measureless delight,
When fancy flashes, as a star
That falleth through the night!
A weary night, a solemn night,
Is Life, so stern and slow,
And gentle forms like thine, the light
Which guides us as we go.
Then, say not, maiden—never say
Thy heart in like the snow,
Thine eyes have far too fond a ray,
That we should deem it so.
I, too, have sought, with studied art.
To stay the tides that speak,
But still, the struggle at my heart
Was written on my cheek.
And now, my tuneless measure talks
One of the lonely lays
Which haunt my spirit when it walks
The melancholy ways.
I sing, and singing dwell on thee—
The Pilgrim of a Star!
Who, straining, deems he yet can see
Some solace, though afar.
Oh! in such times my harp will break
Forth in a fleeting tone,
But, ere its echo dies, I wake,
To find—I am alone!