 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
199
MY LOVE.
My love is waiting by the sea—
By sloped long hillocks of dun sand
With grey-green grasses clothed, a land
Most lonely, there she chose to stand—
Most grievous, there she chose to be—
My love is waiting by the sea!
By sloped long hillocks of dun sand
With grey-green grasses clothed, a land
Most lonely, there she chose to stand—
Most grievous, there she chose to be—
My love is waiting by the sea!
My love is waiting in the wood—
Beneath her feet the flowers are red
And yellow, over her sweet head
The falling fluttered leaves are shed,
She wears her hair, she wears no hood,
My love is waiting in the wood!
Beneath her feet the flowers are red
And yellow, over her sweet head
The falling fluttered leaves are shed,
She wears her hair, she wears no hood,
My love is waiting in the wood!
200
My love is waiting at the gate—
A rose she holds between her hands,
And, silent, smiling down she stands,
Her hair in braids of golden bands
Hangs downward by its own glad weight,
My love is waiting at the gate!
A rose she holds between her hands,
And, silent, smiling down she stands,
Her hair in braids of golden bands
Hangs downward by its own glad weight,
My love is waiting at the gate!
My love is waiting in the lane—
The honeysuckle stoops inclined
To kiss her, of an equal mind
With me, the roses blush to find
Their rivalry of redness vain,
My love is waiting in the lane!
The honeysuckle stoops inclined
To kiss her, of an equal mind
With me, the roses blush to find
Their rivalry of redness vain,
My love is waiting in the lane!
My love is waiting on the shore—
The waves are plashing at her feet,
Soft music this, but not so sweet
As low desire of lips that meet,
Once having met to meet the more,
My love is waiting on the shore!
The waves are plashing at her feet,
Soft music this, but not so sweet
As low desire of lips that meet,
Once having met to meet the more,
My love is waiting on the shore!
201
My love is waiting by the stream—
Ah, sweet o ne, fast the waters flow,
Our joy is fleeting even so,
A moment's mute delight we know,
A moment's wild ecstatic dream,
And—love's no longer by the stream!
Ah, sweet o ne, fast the waters flow,
Our joy is fleeting even so,
A moment's mute delight we know,
A moment's wild ecstatic dream,
And—love's no longer by the stream!
My love is waiting nigh the lake—
Sweet pebbles, rounded water-stones
She stands upon, I would my bones
Were even as ye, I would my groans
A sacrifice her feet might take,
That love would slay me by the lake!
Sweet pebbles, rounded water-stones
She stands upon, I would my bones
Were even as ye, I would my groans
A sacrifice her feet might take,
That love would slay me by the lake!
My love is waiting in the road—
And up and down she looks and weeps,
My coldness at a distance keeps,
For what she, cruel, sowed she reaps,
She mocked me when my own heart glowed,
I leave her weeping in the road!
And up and down she looks and weeps,
My coldness at a distance keeps,
For what she, cruel, sowed she reaps,
She mocked me when my own heart glowed,
I leave her weeping in the road!
202
My love is waiting by the trees—
Those fair four trees where first we met,
I have them in my memory yet,
She waits, she sigheth for regret,
And I burn round her in the breeze,
And breathe upon her through the trees!
Those fair four trees where first we met,
I have them in my memory yet,
She waits, she sigheth for regret,
And I burn round her in the breeze,
And breathe upon her through the trees!
My love is waiting in the street—
We are not rich, we envy not
The wealthy, ours a lowly lot,
But she, she loveth me, God wot!
And therefore are my footsteps fleet
To meet my lady in the street!
We are not rich, we envy not
The wealthy, ours a lowly lot,
But she, she loveth me, God wot!
And therefore are my footsteps fleet
To meet my lady in the street!
My love is waiting by the burn—
A Scottish maiden she, and I
A Scotchman born as such to die
Am steadfast, O the soft blue eye,
The yellow hair, the lips I earn
As greeting, coming nigh the burn!
A Scottish maiden she, and I
A Scotchman born as such to die
Am steadfast, O the soft blue eye,
The yellow hair, the lips I earn
As greeting, coming nigh the burn!
203
My love is waiting by the brook—
The peppermint and forget-me-not
Make sweet and gracious all the spot,
But as for me my lips are hot,
My eyes are eager, and I look
For heaven and her beside the brook!
The peppermint and forget-me-not
Make sweet and gracious all the spot,
But as for me my lips are hot,
My eyes are eager, and I look
For heaven and her beside the brook!
My lady waiteth on the hill—
And I, I weep, I cannot move,
I cannot go to meet my love,
I strive below, she sings above,
Bound fast by fate's remorseless will
I cannot cry, nor climb the hill!
And I, I weep, I cannot move,
I cannot go to meet my love,
I strive below, she sings above,
Bound fast by fate's remorseless will
I cannot cry, nor climb the hill!
My love is waiting in the glade—
And over her the branches bow
And make a green cathedral now
With waving aisles, across her brow
A soothing shadow next have laid,
And so she waits within the glade!
And over her the branches bow
And make a green cathedral now
With waving aisles, across her brow
A soothing shadow next have laid,
And so she waits within the glade!
204
My love is waiting on the beach—
High green cliffs on the dexter hand
Enclose us from the inward land,
And on the left the billows band
Together in a foamy reach,
And laugh, as we do, on the beach!
High green cliffs on the dexter hand
Enclose us from the inward land,
And on the left the billows band
Together in a foamy reach,
And laugh, as we do, on the beach!
My love is waiting by the elm—
In France, a lonely sun-struck spot
With poplars lined that waver not
In straightness, in the mid-day hot
She chose with fire to overwhelm
My parched pale soul beside the elm!
In France, a lonely sun-struck spot
With poplars lined that waver not
In straightness, in the mid-day hot
She chose with fire to overwhelm
My parched pale soul beside the elm!
My love is waiting by the bridge—
A country bridge with mosses grown
Across a babbling streamlet thrown,
And she and I were there alone,
Alone we walked the wooded ridge,
And, after, rested on the bridge!
A country bridge with mosses grown
Across a babbling streamlet thrown,
And she and I were there alone,
Alone we walked the wooded ridge,
And, after, rested on the bridge!
205
My love is waiting far away—
In Italy underneath the blue
A sculptor's work I have to do
But I can only image you,
For you possess me, night or day,
Although you are so far away!
In Italy underneath the blue
A sculptor's work I have to do
But I can only image you,
For you possess me, night or day,
Although you are so far away!
My love is waiting in the town—
In London, and I try to write
“Dramatic Poems,” failing quite,
She lays her hands across my sight,
And what she wills I must put down,
My queen, and queen of London town!
In London, and I try to write
“Dramatic Poems,” failing quite,
She lays her hands across my sight,
And what she wills I must put down,
My queen, and queen of London town!
My love is waiting on the heath—
Sweet upland, would that I were there,
That nostrils drank the scented air
Of furze, and feet the fingering fair
Of heather felt, a foxglove wreath
I'd weave for love upon the heath!
Sweet upland, would that I were there,
That nostrils drank the scented air
Of furze, and feet the fingering fair
Of heather felt, a foxglove wreath
I'd weave for love upon the heath!
206
My love is waiting in the vale—
I have not seen her since I went
On fame's achievement strongly bent
To the wars, my soul in sunder rent,
One half she holds, that maiden pale,
Of a soldier's heart hid in the vale!
I have not seen her since I went
On fame's achievement strongly bent
To the wars, my soul in sunder rent,
One half she holds, that maiden pale,
Of a soldier's heart hid in the vale!
My love is waiting on the mount—
Beneath the rocks, above the vines
That grow in green trim-trellised lines
She sits, and slowly sadly pines,
As I pine, and the hours count
Until I stand on that Swiss mount!
Beneath the rocks, above the vines
That grow in green trim-trellised lines
She sits, and slowly sadly pines,
As I pine, and the hours count
Until I stand on that Swiss mount!
My love is waiting in the night—
Dark-eyed, a sweet signora face,
With the old unequalled southern grace
Of figure, in the market place
Against the carven pillar, white
She leans and shineth through the night!
Dark-eyed, a sweet signora face,
With the old unequalled southern grace
Of figure, in the market place
Against the carven pillar, white
She leans and shineth through the night!
207
My love is waiting by the bay—
The Ganges rolls long brown-lipped waves,
And her bare feet their whisper laves,
Their broken whisper, just as saves
Each kiss a keener word to say,
A closer lip-caress next day!
The Ganges rolls long brown-lipped waves,
And her bare feet their whisper laves,
Their broken whisper, just as saves
Each kiss a keener word to say,
A closer lip-caress next day!
My love is waiting in the North—
I see her, she hath green-grey eyes,
And something of the serpent lies
Within those deep bewildering skies,
Whence witchery lightens, ceaseless, forth
The Auroral lustre of the North!
I see her, she hath green-grey eyes,
And something of the serpent lies
Within those deep bewildering skies,
Whence witchery lightens, ceaseless, forth
The Auroral lustre of the North!
My love is waiting—fond of me
She is, at least she was last year,
Who knows, I may not now be dear,
We are parted, shall I shed a tear?
Come, sweet one, if I weep for thee
At least a half tear drop for me!
She is, at least she was last year,
Who knows, I may not now be dear,
We are parted, shall I shed a tear?
Come, sweet one, if I weep for thee
At least a half tear drop for me!
208
My love is waiting where I left
Her last—and let her wait awhile,
For when I wept she did but smile,
Now let her sorrow and beguile
As best she may, from love's lips reft,
The time, for laughed-at love has left!
Her last—and let her wait awhile,
For when I wept she did but smile,
Now let her sorrow and beguile
As best she may, from love's lips reft,
The time, for laughed-at love has left!
My love is waiting—is it so,
And doth she wait and look for me?
As seeks an old sweet flower a bee,
So will I flutter unto thee,
The unforgotten lips to know
Again I tasted long ago!
And doth she wait and look for me?
As seeks an old sweet flower a bee,
So will I flutter unto thee,
The unforgotten lips to know
Again I tasted long ago!
My love is waiting in a dream—
Come, sleep, and close the daylight gates,
And where my golden-haired one waits
Robed in the delicate mystic states
Of dreamland, let my presence seem,
And let me join her in a dream!
Come, sleep, and close the daylight gates,
And where my golden-haired one waits
Robed in the delicate mystic states
Of dreamland, let my presence seem,
And let me join her in a dream!
209
My love is waiting in the morn—
Her face is in the rosy flush,
The beatific sunrise blush,
And out the gay-eyed memories gush,
The tinted clouds night left forlorn,
To meet my mistress in the morn!
Her face is in the rosy flush,
The beatific sunrise blush,
And out the gay-eyed memories gush,
The tinted clouds night left forlorn,
To meet my mistress in the morn!
My love is waiting at the eve—
The golden sunset gleams away
Its glory into simple gray,
The rose-hued raptures where are they,
Is nought left but to sigh and grieve,
And mourn our midday merged in eve?
The golden sunset gleams away
Its glory into simple gray,
The rose-hued raptures where are they,
Is nought left but to sigh and grieve,
And mourn our midday merged in eve?
My love is waiting in the breeze—
A fairy she, with wings outspread
She hovers round about my head,
And in each shower of leaves is shed
Upon me, sighs from out the trees,
And rustles gently in the breeze!
A fairy she, with wings outspread
She hovers round about my head,
And in each shower of leaves is shed
Upon me, sighs from out the trees,
And rustles gently in the breeze!
210
My love is waiting by the boat—
The ripples rise, advance, and flee,
My lady's foot is stayed for me,
And golden all across the sea
The sunset splendours fall and float,
My love is waiting by the boat!
The ripples rise, advance, and flee,
My lady's foot is stayed for me,
And golden all across the sea
The sunset splendours fall and float,
My love is waiting by the boat!
My love is waiting at the mound—
Grey, desolate, in a lonely place,
With granite boulders leaving space
For fern and heaths that interlace,
A witch-like, strange, enchanted ground,
With Fairy Love upon the mound!
Grey, desolate, in a lonely place,
With granite boulders leaving space
For fern and heaths that interlace,
A witch-like, strange, enchanted ground,
With Fairy Love upon the mound!
My love is waiting by the hedge—
Under her feet the laughing blue
Wild speedwell peep the grasses through,
And white stars glisten two and two
Along the ivy-tangled edge
Of that sweet spring-time trysting hedge!
Under her feet the laughing blue
Wild speedwell peep the grasses through,
And white stars glisten two and two
Along the ivy-tangled edge
Of that sweet spring-time trysting hedge!
211
My love is waiting in the sky—
At sunrise towards her face I turn,
At sunset towards her lips I yearn,
And all the livelong day I burn
To win me wings of death, and fly
To her I long for in the sky!
At sunrise towards her face I turn,
At sunset towards her lips I yearn,
And all the livelong day I burn
To win me wings of death, and fly
To her I long for in the sky!
My love is waiting far behind—
One kiss, one whisper, only one,
And with the setting slanting sun
Her life—my life as well—was done,
And henceforth here death's face I find,
Love's warm embrace being left behind!
One kiss, one whisper, only one,
And with the setting slanting sun
Her life—my life as well—was done,
And henceforth here death's face I find,
Love's warm embrace being left behind!
My love is waiting in a cloud—
A cloud of memory, mute and wet
With raindrops of grey gone regret,
That shall be slashed with rainbow yet,
As the sun turns a winter shroud
Of mist into a red-lipped cloud!
A cloud of memory, mute and wet
With raindrops of grey gone regret,
That shall be slashed with rainbow yet,
As the sun turns a winter shroud
Of mist into a red-lipped cloud!
212
My love is waiting where the moon
Casts all across a dim grey waste
Of waves and sand by waters chased
A pale-gold shimmer, and I haste
To wake her from that cold sad swoon
Beneath the unsympathizing moon!
Casts all across a dim grey waste
Of waves and sand by waters chased
A pale-gold shimmer, and I haste
To wake her from that cold sad swoon
Beneath the unsympathizing moon!
My love is waiting where the sun
Burns vehement, and the distant hills
With azure mist-enchantment fills,
I wait to learn the thing she wills,
She waits to see her work well done,
She in the shade, I 'neath the sun!
Burns vehement, and the distant hills
With azure mist-enchantment fills,
I wait to learn the thing she wills,
She waits to see her work well done,
She in the shade, I 'neath the sun!
My love is waiting, and I go
To lay upon her lips a kiss
Including all the passion this
My song hath seized, no note I miss,
No pang of the melody, tear or throe,
When my own mistress' mouth I know!
To lay upon her lips a kiss
Including all the passion this
My song hath seized, no note I miss,
No pang of the melody, tear or throe,
When my own mistress' mouth I know!
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