Treasure Island

Sir John Carr

(1732-1807 / England)

A Roundelay


Wide thro' the azure blue and bright
Serenely floats the lamp of night;
The sleeping waves forget to move,
And silent is the cedar grove;
Each breeze suspended seems to say-
'Now, Leline, for thy Roundelay!'

My Delia's lids are clos'd in rest;
Ah! were her pillow but my breast!
Go, dreams! one gentle word impart,
In whispers place me by her heart;
While near her door I'll fondly stray,
And sooth her with my Roundelay.

But, ah! the Night draws in her shade,
And glimm'ring stars reluctant fade:
Yet sleep, my love! nor may'st thou feel
The pangs which griefs like mine reveal:
Adieu! for Morning's on his way,
And bids me close my Roundelay.

Submitted: Thursday, September 30, 2010
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Roundelay by Sir John Carr )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Found Out, Edgar Albert Guest
  2. The Killing Place, Edgar Albert Guest
  3. The Bank Clerk, Edgar Albert Guest
  4. If I Were Santa Claus, Edgar Albert Guest
  5. Man And Lathe, Edgar Albert Guest
  6. Fishing Reasons, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. The Gentle Hand Of Women Folks, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. The Disgrace Of Poverty, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. Neil Snow, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. The Limit, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]