An hour's respite; once more the heart may dream: <br />the thunderwheels of passion thro' the eve, <br />distantly musical, vaporously agleam, <br />about my old pain leave <br />nought but a soft enchantment, vesper fable. <br />Sweet hour of dream! from the tense height of life <br />given back to this dear grass and perfumed shade, <br />across the golden darkness <br />I feel the simple flowerets where we stray'd <br />in the clear eves unmix'd with starry strife. <br />Ah! wilt thou not even now arise, <br />low-laughing child haunting my old spring ways <br />and blossom freshly on my freshen'd gaze, <br />sororal in this hour of tenderness, <br />an hour of happy hands and clinging eyes — <br />on silent heartstrings <br />sweet memory fades in sweet forgetfulness.<br /><br />Christopher John Brennan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-hour-s-respite/
