 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
LOVE'S CHAPEL.
As if soft odors from the vales of bliss
Pressed open, dear one, the pearl gates above,
Came in the Hybla sweetness of thy kiss,
The gentle, gentle meaning of thy love.
Pressed open, dear one, the pearl gates above,
Came in the Hybla sweetness of thy kiss,
The gentle, gentle meaning of thy love.
Then felt I as some mortal maid who lies
Beneath a rose-roof bower that sunshine warms,
Who, having charmed a god from the blue skies,
First feels his gold locks trembling in her arms.
Beneath a rose-roof bower that sunshine warms,
Who, having charmed a god from the blue skies,
First feels his gold locks trembling in her arms.
Haste! bring me river-lilies pale as snow,
Meek wood-flowers faintly streaked with jet and blue,
Blush-roses gathered where the west winds blow,
And little moss-cups dripping wet with dew.
Meek wood-flowers faintly streaked with jet and blue,
Blush-roses gathered where the west winds blow,
And little moss-cups dripping wet with dew.
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And when the silver ring of the new moon
Hangs o'er the dark woods sloping to the sea,
When hope lies dallying in the lap of June,
I'll twine a chapel for my love and me.
Hangs o'er the dark woods sloping to the sea,
When hope lies dallying in the lap of June,
I'll twine a chapel for my love and me.
A quiet chapel 'neath the quiet boughs,
Whose dusky beauty makes the days like eves,
Where kneeling softly we may make our vows
In the pale light like broken lily leaves.
Whose dusky beauty makes the days like eves,
Where kneeling softly we may make our vows
In the pale light like broken lily leaves.
Feeding my heart with dreams of that dear hour,
Nor pain, nor alien sorrow, nor dim fear
Shall cross the threshold of our chapel bower,
Till that sweet time, oh gentle love, be here!
Nor pain, nor alien sorrow, nor dim fear
Shall cross the threshold of our chapel bower,
Till that sweet time, oh gentle love, be here!
As suddenly the brown leaf-buried root,
When the spring thaw brings down the genial shower,
Into the blue air lifts its tender shoot,
Crowned with the beauty of its perfect flower:
When the spring thaw brings down the genial shower,
Into the blue air lifts its tender shoot,
Crowned with the beauty of its perfect flower:
So is my hope, long buried under fears,
And walled from sunshine by the helpless night,
Crowned with the beauty of its primal years,
Uplifted softly to the loving light.
And walled from sunshine by the helpless night,
Crowned with the beauty of its primal years,
Uplifted softly to the loving light.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |