Craigcrook Castle By Gerald Massey |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. | VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
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 | Craigcrook Castle |  |
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VIII.
As earliest flowers, the sweet first-love of Spring,
Are tenderest in their fragrance—saintliest pure,
Love's firstlings, budding in the heart, unfold
Most precious sweet of all the lusty year;
And all his life is with their fragrance filled.
In shy and shady nooks he steals, to brood
O'er what his heart for kisses lifteth up.
Are tenderest in their fragrance—saintliest pure,
Love's firstlings, budding in the heart, unfold
Most precious sweet of all the lusty year;
And all his life is with their fragrance filled.
In shy and shady nooks he steals, to brood
O'er what his heart for kisses lifteth up.
With a ripe glow in his warm face the Dawn
Uplifts the veil of dew-mist from the shape
Of Beauty sleeping on the lap of Earth:
So down into his secret soul he peers,
To see the veiléd Beauty thro' its mist,
And bows to bless her where she lies alight,
Unconscious of the reddening dawn of love.
Uplifts the veil of dew-mist from the shape
Of Beauty sleeping on the lap of Earth:
So down into his secret soul he peers,
To see the veiléd Beauty thro' its mist,
And bows to bless her where she lies alight,
Unconscious of the reddening dawn of love.
A face, like nestling luxury of flowers;
Soft hair, on which Light drops a diadem;
Twin eyes that smile,—ah, when in their far heaven
Shall Love stand up and wave the Victor's palm?—
A mouth of roses wet with damask wine:
And all the beauty hid from mortal eyes,
Like lily-bud in leaves of cool green light.
Soft hair, on which Light drops a diadem;
Twin eyes that smile,—ah, when in their far heaven
Shall Love stand up and wave the Victor's palm?—
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And all the beauty hid from mortal eyes,
Like lily-bud in leaves of cool green light.
His happy eyes brim with voluptuous dew,
Gathered in the rich air of secret love.
Anon his heart goes wandering like a wind
That reels thro' meads of spice, o'er hills of myrrh,
Drunk with flower-fragrance, and the wine of love,
And making music at the lightest touch,
Till faint with sweet it wearies into rest.
Gathered in the rich air of secret love.
Anon his heart goes wandering like a wind
That reels thro' meads of spice, o'er hills of myrrh,
Drunk with flower-fragrance, and the wine of love,
And making music at the lightest touch,
Till faint with sweet it wearies into rest.
| Craigcrook Castle | |