Page:The college beautiful, and other poems.djvu/22

10 Upon these withered grasses is no rest. Thy crimson-dotted mosses are denied. In dewy vines I see thy portal dressed, But know that only on the further side The purple grapes droop over. Take me in ! I do not fear to trust myself to thee. Waking and danger are of closer kin, But what hast thou to do with grief or sin ? Imprisoned from myself, I wander free, And no resplendent sun of noon grants such security. I would not lie to-night so near the bars, If to thy realm fair entrance I may find, That through them I might view our mortal stars Or hear the passing of our pilgrim wind. Not even would I wish some gentle friend To lean against them with a loving face, For rest and life were never willed to blend, And as I watched the day unto its end, So would I sleep the night without a trace Not only of day's grievousness, but even of its grace. Nor spread my couch within thy garden-beds, Where fairy forms from out the blossoms glance, And catch the yellow moonlight on their heads To shift it swiftly in the swaying dance.