Astarte
By Henry Kendall
Across the dripping ridges,
O, look, luxurious night!
She comes, the bright-haired beauty,
My luminous delight!
My luminous delight!
So hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Loves wild Nevermore!
Astarte, Syrian sister,
Your face is wet with tears;
I think you know the secret
One heart hath held for years!
One heart hath held for years!
But hide your hapless love,
And my sweet my Syrian sister,
Dead Loves wild Nevermore!
Ah, Helen Hope in heaven,
My queen of long ago,
Ive swooned with adoration,
But could not tell you so,
Or dared not tell you so,
My radiant queen of yore!
And youve passed away and left me
Dead Loves wild Nevermore!
Astarte knoweth, darling,
Of eyes that once did weep,
What time entranced Passion
Hath kissed your lips in sleep;
Hath kissed your lips in sleep;
But now those tears are oer,
Gone, my saint, with many a moan to
Dead Loves wild Nevermore!
If I am past all crying,
What thoughts are maddening me,
Of you, my darling, dying
Upon the lone, wide sea,
Upon the lone, wide sea,
Ah! hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Loves wild Nevermore!