Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
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Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
 
I. From the North
By Bayard Taylor (1825–1878)
 
ONCE more without you!—sighing, dear, once more,
For all the sweet, accustomed ministries
Of wife and mother: not as when the seas
That parted us my tender message bore
From the gray olives of the Cretan shore        5
To those that hid the broken Phidian frieze
Of our Athenian home,—but far degrees,
Wide plains, great forests, part us now: my door
Looks on the rushing Neva, cold and clear:
The swelling domes in hovering splendor lie,        10
Like golden bubbles, eager to be gone,
But the chill crystal of the atmosphere
Withholds them; and along the northern sky
The amber midnight smiles in dreams of dawn!
 
 
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