On Viol and Flute :: :: University of Virginia Library

When first we met the nether world was white
And on the steel-blue ice before her bower
I skated in the sunrise for an hour,
Till all the grey horizon, gulphed in light,
Was red against the bare boughs black as night;
Then suddenly her sweet face like a flower,
Enclosed in sables from the frost's dim power,
Shone at her casement, and flushed burning bright
When first we met!
My skating being done, I loitered home,
And sought that day to lose her face again;
But Love was weaving in his golden loom
My story up with hers, and all in vain
I strove to loose the threads he spun amain
When first we met.

II. ELATION.

Like to some dreaming and unworldly child
Who sits at sunset in the mist of hope,
When all the windows of the west lie ope,
Flooding the air with splendour undefiled,
And sees, by fancy in a trance beguiled,
An angel mount the perilous burning slope,
Winning the opal and the sapphire cope,
And laughs for very joy and yearning wild;—
So I, in whose awakening spirit Love
Rules uninvited, not to be controlled,
Am happiest when I struggle not, but hold
My windows open and my heart above,
Watching, with soul not bowed nor over-bold,
The august air with which his footsteps move.

III. IN CHURCH-TIME.

I took my flute among the primroses
That lined the hill along the brown church-wall,
For she was there; till shades began to fall,
I piped my songs out like a bird at ease,
When suddenly the distant litanies
Ceased, and she came, and passed beyond recall,
And left me throbbing, heart and lips and all,
And vanished in the vistaed cypress-trees;
Ah! sweet, that motion of harmonious limbs
Drove all my folly hence, but left me faint!
Oh! be not, my desire, so wholly saint,
That I must woo thee to the rhythm of hymns!
Ah! me, my dizzy brain dissolves and swims!
And all my body thrills with keen constraint!

IV. DEJECTION AND DELAY.

Canst thou not wait for Love one flying hour,
O heart of little faith? are fields not green
Because their rolling bounty is not seen?
Will beauty not return with the new flower?
Because the tir'd sun seeks the deep sea-bower
Where sleep and Tethys tenderly convene,
And night and starless slumber intervene,
Shall sunlight no more thrill the world with power?
True Love is patient ever; by the brooks
He hath his winter-dreams, a fluent choir,
And waits for summer to revive again;
He knows that by-and-by the woodland-nooks
Will overflow with blossoming green fire,
And swooping swallows herald the warm rain.

V. EXPECTATION.

When flower-time comes and all the woods are gay,
When linnets chirrup and the soft winds blow,
Adown the winding river I will row,
And watch the merry maidens tossing hay,
And troops of children shouting in their play,
And with my thin oars flout the fallen snow
Of heavy hawthorn-blossom as I go,
And shall I see my love at fall of day
When flower-time comes?
Ah, yes! for by the border of the stream
She binds red roses to a trim alcove,
And I shall fade into her summer-dream
Of musing upon love,—nay, even seem
To be myself the very god of love,
When flower-time comes!

VI. IN THE GRASS.

Oh! flame of grass, shot upward from the earth,
Keen with a thousand quivering sunlit fires,
Green with the sap of satisfied desires
And sweet fulfilment of your sad pale birth,
Behold! I clasp you as a lover might,
Roll on you, bathing in the noon-day sun,
And, if it might be, I would fain be one
With all your odour, mystery and light,
Oh flame of grass!
For here, to chasten my untimely gloom,
My lady took my hand, and spoke my name;
The sun was on her gold hair like a flame;
The bright wind smote her forehead like perfume;
The daisies darkened at her feet; she came,
As Spring comes, scattering incense on your bloom,
Oh flame of grass!

VII. RESERVATION.

Her terrace looking down upon the lake
Has corners where the deepest shadows are,
And there we sit to watch the evening-star,
And try what melody our lutes can make;
Our reticent hearts with longing almost break,
The while her violet eyes strain out afar,
As though her soul would seek the utmost bar
Where faltering sunset quivers, flake by flake;
My forehead rests against the balustrade;
My cheeks flush hot and cold; my eager eyes
Are fixed on hers until the moon shall rise,—
The splendid moon of Love,—and unafraid
The utmost debt of passionate hope be paid,
And all be given that now her heart denies.

VIII. BY THE WELL.

Hot hands that yearn to touch her flower-like face,
With fingers spread, I set you like a weir
To stem this ice-cold stream in its career,—
And chill your pulses there a little space;
Brown hands, what right have you to claim the grace
To touch her head so infinitely dear?
Learn courteously to wait and to revere,
Lest haply ye be found in sorry case,
Hot hands that yearn!
But if ye bring her flowers at my behest,
And hold her crystal water from the well,
And bend a bough for shade when she will rest,
And if she find you fain and teachable,
That flower-like face, perchance, ah! who can tell?
In your embrace may some sweet day be pressed,
Hot hands that yearn!

IX. MAY-DAY.

The Past is like a funeral gone by,
The Future comes like an unwelcome guest,
And some men gaze behind them to find rest
And some urge forward with a stifled sigh;
But soft perennial flowers break forth and die,
And sweet birds pair and twine a woodland nest;
They, sifting all things, find the Present best,
And garnish life with that philosophy.
Like birds, like flowers, oh! let us live To-day,
And leave To-morrow to the Fates' old fingers,
And waste no weeping over Yesterday!
Lo! round about the golden lustre lingers,
The fresh green boughs are full of choral singers,
And all the Dryades keep holiday.

X. MISTRUST.

The peacock screamed and strutted in the court,
The fountain flashed its crystal to the sun,
The noisy life of noon was just begun,
And happy men forgot that life was short;
We two stood, laughing, at the turret-pane,
When some Apollo of the ranks of Mars,
Crimson with plumes and glittering like the stars,
Galloped across below, and there drew rein.
To see so confident a man-at-arms
My heart sank suddenly from sun to shade,
But she, who knows the least of Love's alarms,
Laid one soft hand upon my throbbing wrist,
And in her eyes I read the choice she made,
And anger slumbered like a tired child kissed.

XI. EAVESDROPPING.

While May was merry in the leafy trees
I found my fair one sitting all alone,
Where round our well the long light ferns had grown
So high, so deep, that she was drowned in these,
And her bright face and yellow buoyant hair
Scarce peered above them, where she sat and read,
Flecked by the leaf-lights wavering overhead,
A great black-letter book of verses rare;
Wherein our Chaucer, years and years ago,
Wove the sad tale of Cryseyde untrue,
And Troylus yearning with a broken heart;
At last she, sighing, shut the rhythmic woe,
And let her sweet eyes dream against the blue,
And swore she would love truly, for her part.

XII. A GARDEN-PIECE.

Among the flowers of summer-time she stood,
And underneath the films and blossoms shone
Her face, like some pomegranate strangely grown
To ripe magnificence in solitude;
The wanton winds, deft whisperers, had strewed
Her shoulders with her shining hair outblown,
And dyed her breast with many a changing tone
Of silvery green, and all the hues that brood
Among the flowers;
She raised her arm up for her dove to know
That he might preen him on her lovely head;
Then I, unseen, and rising on tip-toe,
Bowed over the rose-barrier, and lo!
Touched not her arm, but kissed her lips instead,
Among the flowers!

XIII. CONFIDENT LOVE.

Now all day long we wander hand in hand,
And taste of love in many wondrous ways;
And still my fingers tremble with amaze
To find they rest in hers at her command;
We sit together in the sweet corn-land,
Her light head quivering on my sun-burnt throat,
The while the gold threads of her loose hair float
Along my shoulder by the light wind fanned;
And thus for many days we lightly played
Shepherd and shepherdess with mimic crook,
And sunned and shaded in the elm-tree's nook,
Until the newness of our love decayed
And then we rose and left the heights and strayed
Along the glen and down beside the brook.

XIV. LOVERS' QUARREL.

Beside the stream and in the alder-shade,
Love sat with us one dreamy afternoon,
When nightingales and roses made up June,
And saw the red light and the amber fade
Under the canopy the willows made,
And watched the rising of the hollow moon,
And listened to the water's gentle tune,
And was as silent as she was, sweet maid,
Beside the stream;
Till with “Farewell!” he vanished from our sight,
And in the moonlight down the glade afar
His light wings glimmered like a falling star;
Then ah! she took the left path, I the right,
And now no more we sit by noon or night
Beside the stream!

XV. RECONCILIATION.

But walking on the moors at dawn one day,
When all the sky was flushed with rosy hue,
I saw her white robe dabbled in the dew,
Among the sparkling heather where she lay;
Sobbing, she turned from me, and murmured “Nay!”
Then rising from the ground, she strove anew
To turn away, but could not stir, and flew
At last into my arms the old sweet way;
And Love, that watched us ever from afar,
Came fluttering to our side, and cried “O ye,
Who think to fly, ye cannot fly from me;
Lo! I am with you always where you are!”
Yet henceforth are we twain and are not three,
Though Love is on our foreheads like a star.

XVI. THE FEAR OF DEATH.

Beneath her window in the cool, calm night,
I stood and made as though I would have sung,
Being full of life and confident and young,
And dreaming only of my love's delight;
Then suddenly I saw the glooms divide,
And gliding from the darkest cypress-tree
Death came, white-boned, and snatcht my lute from me,
And sat himself, grimacing, by my side.
Just then, as when the golden moon looks down
On starless waters from a stony sky,
My love's fair face shone out above on high;
Whereat I, fearing nothing of Death's frown,
Turned smiling to salute her lovely head,
And when I turned again, lo! Death had fled!

XVII. EXPERIENCE.

Deep in the woods we walked at break of day,
And just beyond a whispering avenue,
Where all the flowers were nodding, full of dew,
We heard a sound of speaking far away;
And turning saw a pale calm queen assay
To tell that Love was cruel and untrue,
To knots of girls in white and cream and blue,
Who round her feet, while listening, lounged and lay,
Deep in the woods.
But we two crushed the moss with silent feet,
And passed aside unseen; for what to us,
Who knew Love's breath, and fanned its passionate heat,
And laughed to hear our hearts' twin pulses beat,
Were tuneless songs of maidens murmuring thus,
Deep in the woods?

XVIII. THE EXCHANGE.

Last night, while I was sitting by her side,
And listening to her boddice' silken stir,
And stroking her soft sleeves of yellow fur,
I gave the sweet who is to be my bride
A little silver vinaigrette, star-eyed,
And chased with cupids; and received from her
The gold-embossed pomander-box of myrrh
She pounced her white hands with at eventide.
My sleep till dawn was all consumed with thirst,
And passionate longing; then the great sun's light
Burst through my flimsy dreams, and nothing tells
Of all the joy that gladdened me last night,
Except this little golden box that smells
As her sweet hands did when I kissed them first.

XIX. UNDER THE APPLE-TREE.

Against her breast I set my head, and lay
Beneath the summer fruitage of a tree,
Whose boughs last spring had borne for her and me
The fleeting blossom of a doubtful day;
That rose and white had tasted swift decay,
And now the swelling fruits of certainty
Hung there like pale green lamps, and fair to see,
And I was strong to dream the hours away
Against her breast;
Her satins rustled underneath my head,
Stirred by the motions of her perfect heart,
But she was silent, till at last she said,—
While all her countenance flushed rosy-red,—
“Dear love! oh! stay forever where thou art,
Against my breast!”

XX. EPITHALAMIUM

High in the organ-loft, with lilied hair,
Love plied the pedals with his snowy foot,
Pouring forth music like the scent of fruit,
And stirring all the incense-laden air;
We knelt before the altar's gold rail, where
The priest stood robed, with chalice and palm-shoot,
With music-men, who bore citole and lute,
Behind us, and the attendant virgins fair;
And so our red aurora flashed to gold,
Our dawn to sudden sun, and all the while
The high-voiced children trebled clear and cold,
The censer-boys went swinging down the aisle,
And far above, with fingers strong and sure,
Love closed our lives' triumphant overture.