When I look on thee and feel how dear,
How pure, and how fair thou art,
Into my eyes there steals a tear,
And a shadow mingled of love and fear
Creeps slowly over my heart.
And my very hands feel as if they would lay
Themselves on thy fair young head,
And pray the good God to keep thee alway
As good and lovely, as pure and gay,–
When I and my wild love are dead.
(John Hay)
More Poetry from John Hay:
John Hay Poems based on Topics: Love, Art- Guy Of The Temple (John Hay Poems)
- A Dream Of Bric-A-Brac (John Hay Poems)
- Wanderlieder (John Hay Poems)
- Centennial (John Hay Poems)
- The Monks Of Basle (John Hay Poems)
- The Pledge At Spunky Point (John Hay Poems)