Loved and Lost

Loved and Lost

In my ladys silken hair,
Nestling low in fragrance there,
Slept a flower, a bud of May,
Soft and pure as breath of day,
Greeting morn before the sun
Has his waking well begun.
And I wonder if my love
Is a vision from above;
If the angels gave her grace,
If they in her tresses place
Po[?], while she gaily stands
Fairest maid in all the lands,
Laughing while the river's song
Gathers from the sha[?]s along
Its banks, sweet and gentle strain.
Mem'ry's dreamings still remain,
Longing for the love-lit day,
When the angels, at their play,
Will a flower, bright and fair,
Lend to grace my lady's hair,
With a message soft and true,
Living clear as night-born dew,
Dwelling on a breath of light,
Just as day escapes from night.
But my lady's now a dream,
Still I long for days that seem
Never to be coming. Love is lost
And my heartaches are the cost,
Bringing with them gloom and tears,
Sorrows, pain and chiding fears.

W.H.A. Moore

4:31, p. 2

1891.04.25