BUSH BALLADS AND RHYMES 



Was ruddy : Father, raise me up, 

 My voice is waxing weak. 



We drank ; his lips turned livid white, 

 His cheeks grew leaden ash ; 



He reel'd — I heard his temples smite 

 The threshold with a crash ! 



And from his hand, in shivers bright, 

 I saw the goblet flash. 



The morrow dawn'd with fragrance rare ; 



The May-breeze, from the west, 

 Just fann'd the sleepy olives, where 



She heard and I confess'd ; 

 My hair entangled with her hair, 



Her breast strained to my breast. 



On the dread verge of endless gloom. 



My soul recalls that hour ; 

 Skies languishing with balm of bloom. 



And fields aflame with flower ; 

 And slow caresses that consume, 



And kisses that devour. 



Ah ! now with storm the day seems rife, 



My dull ears catch the roll 



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