Orta-undis, and other poems | ||
73
WHY SHE LOVES ME.
It is happiness to be
Loved by one so good as she,
Loved, and that so tenderly.
Loved by one so good as she,
Loved, and that so tenderly.
‘Why is it she loves me so?’
Into the deep woods I go
Pondering, that I may know.
Into the deep woods I go
Pondering, that I may know.
Underneath the branches spread
Green and tentlike overhead,
Full of happiness I tread.
Green and tentlike overhead,
Full of happiness I tread.
Soon I find a pleasant seat
Hidden from the summer heat,
Leaves and flowers at my feet.
Hidden from the summer heat,
Leaves and flowers at my feet.
74
Opposite, around a tree
Climbs a vine, most tenderly
Clasping it and fair to see.
Climbs a vine, most tenderly
Clasping it and fair to see.
Through the fanlike leaves appear
Pendulous like braids of hair,
Slender bunches everywhere.
Pendulous like braids of hair,
Slender bunches everywhere.
Truly now I understand
Why, and guided by what hand,
I alone her heart command.
Why, and guided by what hand,
I alone her heart command.
Outwardly she sees me rough:
That my heart of better stuff
Is,—she knoweth well enough.
That my heart of better stuff
Is,—she knoweth well enough.
What is it to her or me,
If of all ill-judged I be,
So that understandeth she.
If of all ill-judged I be,
So that understandeth she.
75
Well, if she can trust me so,
When the winds begin to blow,
Place of shelter shall she know.
When the winds begin to blow,
Place of shelter shall she know.
During Winters long and drear,
When the fruits all disappear,
Snow and sorrow everywhere,
When the fruits all disappear,
Snow and sorrow everywhere,
She shall in my arms remain,
Comforted and quit of pain,
Till the Summers come again.
Comforted and quit of pain,
Till the Summers come again.
1846.
Orta-undis, and other poems | ||