The courtly hall is gleaming bright
With fashion’s graceful throng–
All hearts are chained in still delight,
For like the heaven-borne voice of night
Breathes Handel’s sacred song.
Nor on my spirit melts in vain
The deep-the wild-the mournful strain
That fills the echoing hall
(Though many a callous soul be there)
With sighs, and sobs, and cherished pain–
While on a face, as Seraph’s fair,
Mine eyes in sadness fall.
Not those the tears that smiling flow
As fancied sorrow bleeds,
Like dew upon the rose’s glow;
–That Lady ‘mid the glittering show
Is clothed in widow’s weeds.
She sits in reverie profound,
And drinks and lives upon the sound,
As if she ne’er would wake!
Her closed eyes cannot hold the tears
That tell what dreams her soul have bound–
In memory they of other years
For a dead husband’s sake.
Methinks her inmost soul lies spread
Before my tearful sight–
A garden whose best flowers are dead,
A sky still fair (though darken
(John Wilson)
More Poetry from John Wilson:
John Wilson Poems based on Topics: Sadness, Fairness, Night, Faces, Flowers, Memory, Garden, Weeds- The Children's Dance (John Wilson Poems)
- Lines -- Sacred to the Memory of the Rev. James Grahame, Author of "The Sabbath," etc. (John Wilson Poems)
- The Magic Mirror (John Wilson Poems)
- Edderline's Dream. Canto First (John Wilson Poems)
- Address To A Wild Deer In The Forest Of Dalness, Argyllshire (John Wilson Poems)
- A Lay Of Fairy Land (John Wilson Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Night Poems, Sadness Poems, Faces Poems, Fairness Poems, Flowers Poems, Memory Poems, Garden Poems, Weeds PoemsBased on Keywords: handel, deep-the