Poem: “To —” by Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta

Download PDF

The brilliant west is glowing,
With sunset’s farewell ray;
The silver waves are flowing,
On to the distant sea;

The pale bright stars are keeping
Their watch through night’s still hours;
The dews in joy are weeping
Above the new-born flowers;

The city’s hum is dying
Upon the perfumed breeze,
That wanders, softly sighing,
Among the flower-crowned trees.

But my vagrant thoughts are roaming
To loved ones far away;
I heed not twilight’s coming,
Nor flowers, nor winds at play.

Of a low, sweet voice I’m dreaming,
More soft than the southwinds are,
Of a gentle eye that is beaming,
More bright than the Evening Star;

And I read as many pages
In the depths of that hazel eye,
As were read by the Chaldean sages,
In the glittering stars on high;

And the dreams that float under the cover
Of those snowy lids of thine,
The thoughts in that young heart that hover,
I have magic power to divine.

If you liked this article, subscribe , put likes, write comments!

Share on social networks

Visit us on Facebook or Twitter