Quote #6

Come then, my bird! For the peace thou ever bearest, Still Heaven's messenger of comfort to me- Come-this fond bosom, O faithfullest and fairest, Bleeds with its death-wound, its wound of love for thee!

More from George Darley

  1. Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers, Lull'd by the faint breezes sighing through her hair; Sleeps she and hears not the m…
  2. O fast her amber blood doth flow From the heart-wounded Incense Tree, Fast as earth's deep-embosom'd woe In silent rivulets to the sea!
  3. Half-buried to her flaming breast In this bright tree, she makes her nest, Hundred-sunned Phoenix! when she must Crumble at length to hoary…
  4. Give me, instead of beauty's bust, A tender heart, a loyal mind, Which with temptation I could trust, Yet never linked with error find.
  5. It is not Beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand, Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair.

All George Darley quotes