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Christopher Brennan - An Hour`s Respite
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An hour`s respite; once more the heart may dream: 
 the thunderwheels of passion thro` the eve, 
 distantly musical, vaporously agleam, 
 about my old pain leave 
 nought but a soft enchantment, vesper fable. 
 Sweet hour of dream! from the tense height of life 
 given back to this dear grass and perfumed shade, 
 across the golden darkness 
 I feel the simple flowerets where we stray`d 
 in the clear eves unmix`d with starry strife. 
 Ah! wilt thou not even now arise, 
 low-laughing child haunting my old spring ways 
 and blossom freshly on my freshen`d gaze, 
 sororal in this hour of tenderness, 
 an hour of happy hands and clinging eyes — 
 on silent heartstrings 
 sweet memory fades in sweet forgetfulness.
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