Would I were but a spirit, veiled in light,
Wafted by winds of heaven from flower to flower,
Catching, from bending blades, the crystal shower,
When earth, impearled, awakened new and bright;
Would I were set to guide some rolling sphere,
Amid the glories of eternal day,
Hymning aloud a sweet, celestial lay
That immortality alone can hear;
Would I were but the messenger of love,
To bear from soul to kindred soul the sigh,
To kiss the tears that fall from beauty's eye,
And watch the ringdove in the lonely grove;
Then sounds of melody might ever flow
From lips that with the fire of feeling glow.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.