Page:Poetry of the Magyars.djvu/183

Rh My heart before thee,—on the wing

Of the calm breeze, methinks I hear

Thy voice—O tell me, art thou there?

Methinks, when at the midnight hour,

In solemn silence fluttering by,

The whisper that some viewless power

Passes, in angel-chariot, nigh;

Methinks that whisper needs must be

Some herald's voice announcing thee.