There be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lulled winds seem dreaming; And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep, Whose breast is gently heaving As an infant's asleep: So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee, With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
Added: 12 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 23 Apr 2017 11:30 PM | Viewed: 7864 times
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