To the Elect of Love,--or side-by-side <br />In raptest ecstasy, or sundered wide <br />By seas that bear no message to or fro <br />Between the loved and lost of long ago. <br /> <br /> <br />So were I but a minstrel, deft <br />At weaving, with the trembling strings <br />Of my glad harp, the warp and weft <br />Of rondels such as rapture sings,-- <br />I'd loop my lyre across my breast, <br />Nor stay me till my knee found rest <br />In midnight banks of bud and flower <br />Beneath my lady's lattice-bower. <br /> <br />And there, drenched with the teary dews, <br />I'd woo her with such wondrous art <br />As well might stanch the songs that ooze <br />Out of the mockbird's breaking heart; <br />So light, so tender, and so sweet <br />Should be the words I would repeat, <br />Her casement, on my gradual sight, <br />Would blossom as a lily might.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inscribed-2/
