I Would I Were The Glow-Worm

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I would I were the glow-worm, thou the flower,
  That I might fill thy cup with glimmering light;
I would I were the bird, and thou the bower,
  To sing thee songs throughout the summer night.

I would I were a pine tree deeply rooted,
  And thou the lofty, cloud-beleaguered rock,
Still, while the blasts of heaven around us hooted,
  To cleave to thee and weather every shock.

I would I were the rill, and thou the river;
  So might I, leaping from some headlong steep,
With all my waters lost in thine for ever,
  Be hurried onwards to the unfathomed deep.

I would-what would I not? O foolish dreaming!
  My words are but as leaves by autumn shed,
That, in the faded moonlight idly gleaming,
  Drop on the grave where all our love lies dead.

© Mathilde Blind