 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
IX—LOVE'S JEALOUSY
Of other men I know no jealousy,Nor of the maid who holds thee close, O, close!
But of the June-red, summer-scented rose,
And of the barred and golden sunset sky
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And of the breeze by thee beloved, that goes
O'er thy dear hair and brow; the song that flows
Into thy heart of hearts, where it may die.
I would I were one moment that sweet show
Of flower; or breeze beloved that toucheth all;
Or sky that through the summer eve doth burn.
I would I were the song thou lovest so,
At sound of me to have thine eyelids fall;—
But I would then to something human turn.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |