TO ONE AFAR.
Reading edition
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BY ESTELLE ANNA LEWIS.
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This lovely morn—this lovely morn,
Ah! whither are thy footsteps straying—
Beneath what bowers of blooming thorn,
Art thou, in pensive mood, delaying?
This lovely morn—this lovely morn,
Ah! whither do thy bright thoughts wander?
What absent loved one dost thou mourn?
On what blessed image dost thou ponder?
This lovely morn, when all is fair,
And beautiful as Eden’s bowers,
Why have I not thy tender care,
Thy smiles to cheer the lonely hours?
Why have I not thy kisses warm?
Why am I not beside thee walking,
And leaning on thy doating arm,
While all the woods, of love are talking?
But here, alone, I sit and kiss
Thine image, with the tears upstarting,
And watch, afar, my dream of bliss,
Like mirage of the waste, departing.