Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Rose TerryCooke487 Lise
I
I would hang over thee;
If I were a star of even,
I ’d rise and set for thee;
For love, life, light, were given
Thy ministers to be.
I ’d kiss thy hair;
Or a sunbeam coming after,
Lie on thy forehead fair;
For the world and its wide hereafter
Have nought with thee to compare.
Thy name should be
The burden of my sweet weeping;
If I were a bee,
My honeyed treasures keeping,
’T were all for thee!
Without a shore;
Nor a leaf whose downward motion
No dews deplore;
And I dream that my devotion
May move thee to sigh once more.