To Constantia, Singing
Lines:42Movement:Romanticism
Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die,Perchance were death indeed!--Constantia, turn!In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie,Even though the sounds which were thy voice, which burnBetween thy lips, are laid to sleep;Within thy breath, and on thy hair, like odour, it is yet,And from thy touch like fire doth leap.Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet.Alas, that the torn heart can bleed, but not forget! A breathless awe, like the swift changeUnseen, but felt in youthful slumbers,Wild, sweet, but uncommunicably strange,Thou breathest now in fast ascending numbers.The cope of heaven seems rent and clovenBy the enchantment of thy strain,And on my shoulders wings are woven,To follow its sublime careerBeyond the mighty moons that waneUpon the verge of Nature's utmost sphere,Till the world's shadowy walls are past and disappear. Her voice is hovering o'er my soul--it lingersO'ershadowing it with soft and lulling wings,The blood and life within those snowy fingersTeach witchcraft to the instrumental strings.My brain is wild, my breath comes quick--The blood is listening in my frame,And thronging shadows, fast and thick,Fall on my overflowing eyes;My heart is quivering like a flame;As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies,I am dissolved in these consuming ecstasies. I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee,Whilst, like the world-surrounding air, thy songFlows on, and fills all things with melody.--Now is thy voice a tempest swift and strong,On which, like one in trance upborne,Secure o'er rocks and waves I sweep,Rejoicing like a cloud of morn.Now 'tis the breath of summer night,Which when the starry waters sleep,Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright,Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight.