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1836–1911

A MIRAGE.

William Schwenck Gilbert

Were I thy bride, Then the whole world beside Were not too wide To hold my wealth of love —

Were I thy bride! Upon thy breast My loving head would rest, As on her nest

The tender turtle dove — Were I thy bride! This heart of mine Would be one heart with thine,

And in that shrine Our happiness would dwell — Were I thy bride! And all day long

Our lives should be a song: No grief, no wrong Should make my heart rebel — Were I thy bride!

The silvery flute, The melancholy lute, Were night owl's hoot To my low-whispered coo —

Were I thy bride! The skylark's trill Were but discordance shrill To the soft thrill

Of wooing as I'd woo — Were I thy bride! The rose's sigh Were as a carrion's cry

To lullaby Such as I'd sing to thee, Were I thy bride! A feather's press

Were leaden heaviness To my caress. But then, unhappily, I'm not thy bride!

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A MIRAGE. · William Schwenck Gilbert · Poetry Cove