O Joy of creation
To be!
O rapture to fly
And be free!
Be the battle lost or won,
Though its smoke shall hide the sun,
I shall find my love, the one
Born for me!
I shall know him where he stands,
All alone,
With the power in his hands
Not o'erthrown;
I shall know him by his face,
By his godlike front and grace;
I shall hold him for a space,
All my own!
It is he O my love!
So bold!
It is I all thy love
Foretold!
It is I. O love! what bliss!
Dost thou answer to my kiss?
O sweetheart! what is this
Lieth there so cold?
What The Bullet Sang
Bret Harte (francis)
(1)
Poem topics: alone, joy, kiss, lost, power, space, sun, rapture, battle, bold, answer, face, cold, hide, hold, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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