 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
LOVE AND SORROW.
Wherever under bowers of myrtle
Love, summer-tressed, and vernal-eyed,
At morn or eve is seen to wander,
A dark-eyed Girl is at his side.
Love, summer-tressed, and vernal-eyed,
At morn or eve is seen to wander,
A dark-eyed Girl is at his side.
No eye beholds the Virgin gliding
Unsandalled through the thicket's glooms;
Yet some have marked her shadow moving
Like twilight o'er the whiter blooms.
Unsandalled through the thicket's glooms;
Yet some have marked her shadow moving
Like twilight o'er the whiter blooms.
A golden bow the Brother carries,
A silver flute the Sister bears:
And ever at the fatal moment
The notes and arrows fly in pairs.
A silver flute the Sister bears:
And ever at the fatal moment
The notes and arrows fly in pairs.
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She rests that flute upon her bosom
While up to Heaven his bow he rears,
And as her kisses make it tremble
That flute is moistened by her tears.
While up to Heaven his bow he rears,
And as her kisses make it tremble
That flute is moistened by her tears.
The lovely twain were born together,
And in the same shell-cradle laid,
By one sea-murmur lulled to slumber,
Together slept, and sleeping played,
And in the same shell-cradle laid,
By one sea-murmur lulled to slumber,
Together slept, and sleeping played,
With hands into each other's woven,
And whispering mouths that seem to teach
Each other in their rosy motion
What still their favourites learn from each.
And whispering mouths that seem to teach
Each other in their rosy motion
What still their favourites learn from each.
Proud of her boy, the Mother showed him
To mortal and immortal eye;
But hid, because she loved her dearer,
The deeper, sweeter Mystery.
To mortal and immortal eye;
But hid, because she loved her dearer,
The deeper, sweeter Mystery.
Accept them both, or hope for neither,
Love-seeking Youth, or Maid love-lorn,
For Grief has come when Love is welcome,
And Love will comfort those who mourn.
Love-seeking Youth, or Maid love-lorn,
For Grief has come when Love is welcome,
And Love will comfort those who mourn.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |