VIII.
A BIRTHDAY
I
“Many and many bright returns,”
As runs the good old phrase,
Of this thy birthday, this that burns
Starlike 'mid dimmer days.
II
Just twenty-one! How strange it seems.
I who have outlived a thousand dreams,
Can I make love to one
Whose dreams are just begun?
III
O girlish heart, thou art sublime
In that thou comest straight
To this the shadowed land of time
From morning's timeless gate.
IV
Within thine eyes the morning's light
Shines softly proud, superbly bright:
We, gazing from afar,
Seem gazing at a star.
V
So fair, so pure the golden rays
Thy golden birthday brings;
Time loves and honours such birthdays
Who mocks the birth of kings.
VI
Time, sunless, pauses for awhile
To catch one sunbeam from thy smile.
I steal it!—Swift-winged rhyme
Can outwit even Time.
