Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912.
Thomas Buchanan Read 18221872
Thomas Buchanan Read148 Some Things Love Me
A
Feel a melancholy thrill;
And the darkness hangs about me,
Oh, how still;
To my feet, the river glideth
Through the shadow, sullen, dark;
On the stream the white moon rideth,
Like a barque—
And the linden leans above me,
Till I think some things there be
In the dreary world that love me,
Even me!
Shedding sweetest breath around; Countless voices rise, to cheer me, From the ground; And the lone bird comes—I hear it In the tall and windy pine Pour the sadness of its spirit Into mine; There it swings and sings above me, Till I think some things there be In this dreary world that love me, Even me! On the stream I see it sway, Swinging, boat-like, as ’t would woo me Far away— And the stars bend from the azure, I could reach them where I lie, And they whisper all the pleasure Of the sky. There they hang and smile above me, Till I think some things there be In the very heavens that love me, Even me!