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Sidney Lanier - The Dove
Work rating: Low

If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn,
 Shouldst call along the curving sphere, "Remain,
Dear Night, sweet Moor; nay, leave me not in scorn!"
 With soft halloos of heavenly love and pain; —

Shouldst thou, O Spring! a-cower in coverts dark,
 `Gainst proud supplanting Summer sing thy plea,
And move the mighty woods through mailed bark
 Till mortal heart-break throbbed in every tree; —

Or (grievous `if` that may be `yea` o`er-soon!),
 If thou, my Heart, long holden from thy Sweet,
Shouldst knock Death`s door with mellow shocks of tune,
 Sad inquiry to make — `When may we meet?`

Nay, if ye three, O Morn! O Spring! O Heart!
 Should chant grave unisons of grief and love;
Ye could not mourn with more melodious art
 Than daily doth yon dim sequestered dove.
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