I sang a song of olden times,
Sitting upon our sacred hill–
Sang it to feel my bosom thrill
To the sweet pathos of its rhymes.
I trilled the music o’er and o’er,
And happy, gazed upon the scene,
Thinking that there had never been
So blue a sea, so fair a shore.
A vague half dream was in my mind;
I hardly saw how sat the sun;
I noted not the day was gone
The rosy western hills behind.
‘Till, soft as if Apollo blew
For me the sweet Thessalian flute,
I heard a sound which made me mute,
And more than singing thrilled me through.
THY STEP–well known and well beloved!
No more I dreamed on shore or sea;
I thought of, saw but only thee,
Nor spoke, but blushed to be so moved.
(Frances Fuller Victor)
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Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Dreams Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Happiness Poems, Music PoemsBased on Keywords: trilled, thessalian