A Mirage

WERE I thy bride,Then the whole world besideWere not too wideTo hold my wealth of love—Were I thy bride!Upon thy breastMy loving head would rest,As on her nestThe tender turtle dove—Were I thy bride!

This heart of mineWould be one heart with thine,And in that shrineOur happiness would dwell—Were I thy bride!

And all day longOur lives should be a song:No grief, no wrongShould make my heart rebel—Were I thy bride!

The silvery flute,The melancholy lute,Were night owl's hootTo my low-whispered coo—Were I thy bride!The skylark's trillWere but discordance shrillTo the soft thrillOf wooing as I'd woo—Were I thy bride!

The rose's sighWere as a carrion's cryTo lullabySuch as I'd sing to thee,Were I thy bride!A feather's pressWere leaden heavinessTo my caress.But then, unhappily,I'm not thy bride!