In My Lady's Praise Being Poems, Old and New: Written to the Honour of Fanny, Lady Arnold and Now Collected for her Memory: By Sir Edwin Arnold |
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October
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 | In My Lady's Praise |  |
123
October
A bold brunette she is, radiant with mirth,
Who comes a-tripping over corn-fields cropped;
Fruits and blown roses from her full arms dropped,
Carpet her feet along the gladdened earth.
Who comes a-tripping over corn-fields cropped;
Fruits and blown roses from her full arms dropped,
Carpet her feet along the gladdened earth.
And on her brow glitters a careless crown
Of bronzèd oak, and apple-leaves, and vine;
And russet-nuts and country berries twine
About her gleaming shoulders and loose gown.
Of bronzèd oak, and apple-leaves, and vine;
And russet-nuts and country berries twine
About her gleaming shoulders and loose gown.
Like grapes at vintage, where the ripe wine glows,
Glows so her sweet cheek, summer-touched but fair;
And, like grape-tendrils, all her wealth of hair,
Gold on a ground of brown, nods as she goes:
Glows so her sweet cheek, summer-touched but fair;
And, like grape-tendrils, all her wealth of hair,
Gold on a ground of brown, nods as she goes:
Grapes too, a-spirt, her brimming fingers bear
A dainty wine-press, pouring wet and warm
The crimson river over wrist and arm,
And on her lips—adding no crimson there!
A dainty wine-press, pouring wet and warm
The crimson river over wrist and arm,
And on her lips—adding no crimson there!
124
Ah! splendid autumn hours—fly not so fast!
Let this rich Lady long with us delay;
The sunset makes the sun so wished-for—stay!
Of three sweet months the loveliest and the last!
Let this rich Lady long with us delay;
The sunset makes the sun so wished-for—stay!
Of three sweet months the loveliest and the last!
But after laughter ever follows grief,
And Pleasure's sunshine brings its shadow Pain;
Even now begins the dreary time again,
The first dull patter of the first dead leaf.
And Pleasure's sunshine brings its shadow Pain;
Even now begins the dreary time again,
The first dull patter of the first dead leaf.
| In My Lady's Praise | |