Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/46

45 Literary Gazette, 15th October, 1825, Page 668

Morning, why art thou so fair? I have no joy in thy sunshine: I would there were a single cloud, Dark as it had a grief like mine. What boots to me the cheerful day, With mine own love so far away?

I should rejoice, thou blushing Morn, If thou wert with mine ladye faire; We would go forth with hawke and horn, And rouse the wild deer from his lair: Now why should I wish a bright day, With mine own love so far away?

I would rejoice, if thy fresh breath Dried her light foot-prints off the dew; If I could see her step and cheek Shame thy soft air, thy roseate hue: But what delight is there in day, With mine own love so far away?

I like thee not, thou laughing Morn; Thy sister is more dear to me— Dim Evening, with her purple pall Hung darkly over sky and sea; Then nearer, by another day, To mine own love, so far away.

But I will worship thee, sweet Morn, When thou art rising on the shore Whereon the peerless beauty dwells, The ladye my liege thoughts adore: No more then shall I pine, and say, Mine own love is so far away.