NIGHTLY I watch the moon with silvery sheen <br />Flaking the city house-tops, till I feel <br />Thy memory, Rosa, like a presence, steal <br />Down in her light: for ever in her mien <br />Thy soul’s similitude my soul hath seen! <br />And as she seemeth now a guardian seal <br />On Heaven’s far bliss, upon my future weal <br />Even such thy truth is—radiantly serene! <br />But long my fancy may not entertain <br />These bright resemblances—for, lo, a cloud <br />Blots her away, and in my breast the pain <br />Of absent love, recurring, pines aloud! <br />When shall I look in thy sweet eyes again,— <br />Rosa, when cheer thee with like sadness bowed? <br /> <br />Wherever in some wildwood bower <br />There blooms a honey-yielding flower, <br />There too dwells a bird to sup <br />Out of its delicious cup, <br />And sing betimes, lest it should be <br />O’erfed into satiety: <br />So wherever Loveliness <br />Dwells retired—dwells to bless, <br />Not dazzle: there some destin’d spirit, <br />Feeding on its luscious merit, <br />Can at peace with Passion be <br />Only through sweet Poesy.<br /><br />Charles Harpur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/absence-62/
