O love, I come; thy last glance guideth me!
Drawn, too, by webs of shadow, like thine hair;
For, Sweet, the mystery
Of thy dark hair the deepening dusk hath caught.
In early moonlight gleamings, lo, I see
Thy white hands beckon to the garden, where
Dim day and silvery darkness are inwrought
As our two lives, where, joining soul with soul,
The tints shall mingle in a fairer whole.
Oh! dost thou hear? I call, beloved, I call,
My stout heart trembling till thy words return;
Hope-lifted, I float faster with the fall
Of fear toward joy such fear alone can earn!
A Wooing Song
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
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Poem topics: alone, dark, heart, hope, joy, sweet, white, shadow, hear, garden, return, mystery, early, moonlight, Valentine's Day, thine, fear, hair, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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