The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) ::

Since we parted yester eve,
I do love thee, love, believe,
Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer,
One dream deeper, one night stronger,
One sun surer,—thus much more
Than I loved thee, love, before.

II. (Noon.)

Is it you . . . . . or a garden of flowers,
Blooming, blooming, breathing, breathing,
Budding, budding; whence sweet Hours
Their delighted brows are wreathing?
Is it I . . . . . or a nest of song-birds,
Chirping, chirping all together?
To the old birds pipe the young birds,
‘Fly, fly! it is summer weather!’

III. (Afternoon.)

O leave me, love, that quiet hand,
Safe nestled in my folded palm,
Till all my soul doth understand
That Love's most perfect crown is Calm!

I think that, by and by, all things
Which were perplext a while ago,
And life's long vain conjecturings,
Will peaceful, plain, and simple grow.
Already, round about me, some
August and solemn gladness seems
Reposing in a dewy dome
Of twilight, o'er a land of dreams
Silent, and soft, and infinite.
The hush of old warm woods that lie
Low in the lap of evening, bright
And bathed in vast tranquility!

University of Virginia Library

LOVE FANCIES.

I. (Morning.)

II. (Noon.)

III. (Afternoon.)