When moonlike ore the hazure seas <br />In soft effulgence swells, <br />When silver jews and balmy breaze <br />Bend down the Lily's bells; <br />When calm and deap, the rosy sleep <br />Has lapt your soal in dreems, <br />R Hangeline! R lady mine! <br />Dost thou remember Jeames? <br /> <br />I mark thee in the Marble All, <br />Where England's loveliest shine— <br />I say the fairest of them hall <br />Is Lady Hangeline. <br />My soul, in desolate eclipse, <br />With recollection teems— <br />And then I hask, with weeping lips, <br />Dost thou remember Jeames? <br /> <br />Away! I may not tell thee hall <br />This soughring heart endures— <br />There is a lonely sperrit-call <br />That Sorrow never cures; <br />There is a little, little Star, <br />That still above me beams; <br />It is the Star of Hope—but ar! <br />Dost thou remember Jeames?<br /><br />William Makepeace Thackeray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-moonlike-ore-the-hazure-seas/
