University of Virginia Library


241

COURANTE.

SILVER Spring;
Hawthorn-white,
Violet-scent,
May-delight;
Birds that sing
Noon and night,
Meadows sprent
With sunlight;
Woods that ring
With the pent
Streams that twine
In their flight
Shade and shine:
Whose content
Do they bring?
Whose delight?
Ah, not mine!
Gold of June;
Days afire
With flower-flush
Of desire:
Sun-sprent noon,
Hedge and brier
Rose a-blush
High and higher;
Linnet's tune,
Trill of thrush,
Nightingales
In the hush
Of the moon:
What avails

242

All the flush
Of the grass,
All the rush
Of the hours,
That o'erpass
Earth and sea,
Crowned with flowers,
Unto me?
What, alas?
Light of Love;
Lips that cling,
Hands that meet,
Souls that wing
Heavens above,
Wandering,
Joined and sweet;
Thoughts that sing,
Lives that move
To the beat
Of the hours,
Murmuring,
“Heaven is ours,
Ours that love,
While we twine
Hand in hand,
In the shine
Of Love's land;”
Whose glad feet
Tread that strand,
All divine?
Whose blest hand
Gathers flowers
In Love's land?
Ah, not mine!

243

Who complains?
Ah, not I!
Not a tear,
Not a cry.
All the rains
Of the sky
Cannot clear
Souls that sigh
Of their stains:
But I lie
Many a year,
Grief-opprest,
And the pains
In my breast
Never rest,
Never die.