Eliza Acton

Where art thou Love!

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Where art thou Love! with thine eyes wild gleam,
And thy hair which floats in the sun's bright beam,
Like a golden banner of triumph, spread
O'er the hosts of a conqueror homeward led ;--
Thy step like the bound of the light gazelle;
And thy voice more sweet than the soft lute's swell.
My beautiful one! come forth, and bless
Thy hunter who droops with weariness;
I have toil'd unresting a far, far way,
The spoils of the chase at thy feet to lay
Ah!--I hear from afar thy silver tone;--
I clasp thee now, my belov'd!--MY OWN !

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Eliza Acton