Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/26

Rh

But now his inmost heart was stirred; He rose at his sweet sovereign's word: A word to whose low tones were given All he dreamed music was in heaven. Ah! love and song are but a dream, A flower's faint shade on life's dark stream. He sang—he loved; though heart and strain Alike might love and sing in vain. Looks not the lover, nor the bard, Beyond the present's sweet reward; Enough to feel the heart is full With hopes that charm, and dreams that lull. One such impassioned hour is worth A thousand common days of earth; They know not how intense the beating Of hearts where love and song are meeting.