Moods
E
Edward Rowland Sill
0
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DAWN has blossomed: the sun is nigh:
Pearl and rose in the wimpled sky,
Rose and pearl on a brightening blue:
(She is true, and she is true!)
The noonday lies all warm and still
And calm, and over sleeping hill
And wheatfields fails a dreamy hue:
(If she be true— if she be true!)
The patient evening comes, most sad and fair:
Veiled are the stars: the dim and quiet air
Breathes bitter scents of hidden myrrh and rue:
(If she were true—if she were only true!)
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