Young Love lies sleeping In May-time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing, White doves come b...
Young Love lies sleeping In May-time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing, White doves come building there: And round about him The May-bushes are white. Soft moss the pillow For oh, a softer cheek; Broad leaves cast shadow Upon the heavy eyes: There wind and waters Grow lulled and scarcely speak; There twilight lingers The longest in the skies. Young Love lies dreaming; But who shall tell the dream? A perfect sunlight On rustling forest tips; Or perfect moonlight Upon a rippling stream; Or perfect silence, Or song of cherished lips. Burn odours round him To fill the drowsy air; Weave silent dances Around him to and fro; For oh, in waking The sights are no so fair, And song and silence Are not like these below. Young Love lies dreaming Till summer days are gone, - Dreaming and drowsing Away to perfect sleep: He sees the beauty Sun hath not looked upon, And tastes the fountain Unutterably deep. Him perfect music Doth hush unto his rest, And through the pauses The perfect silence calms: Oh, poor the voices Of earth from east to west, And poor earth's stillness Between her stately palms. Young Love lies drowsing Away to poppied death; Cool shadows deepen Across the sleeping face: So fails the summer With warm delicious breath; And what hath autumn To give us in its place? Draw close the curtains Of branched evergreen; Change cannot touch them With fading fingers sere: Here first the violets Perhaps with bud unseen, And a dove, may be, Return to nestle here.Dante Gabriel Rossettihttp://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-love/ Less
