 | The book of the dead |  |
58
[XXVII. To-day should be a golden one]
To-day should be a golden one:
Within my calendar it stands
As that whereon love's chains were run
Around my outstretched willing hands.
Within my calendar it stands
As that whereon love's chains were run
Around my outstretched willing hands.
O dearest, on your candid brow
I lay my kisses, but you start:
You see a cloud upon me now,
You know a trouble in my heart.
I lay my kisses, but you start:
You see a cloud upon me now,
You know a trouble in my heart.
Not thus our mated days began:
That morn my kisses warmly fell;
For shouting Joy before us ran,
And laughed, and shook his merry bell.
That morn my kisses warmly fell;
For shouting Joy before us ran,
And laughed, and shook his merry bell.
From end to end the world was bright,
The heavens with glory overflown;
And when the stars came out at night,
Their size and light had strangely grown.
The heavens with glory overflown;
And when the stars came out at night,
Their size and light had strangely grown.
59
I drew a picture of our days,
What care might come, what mirth beguile;
A life that led through studious ways,
Yet brightened by the Muses' smile.
What care might come, what mirth beguile;
A life that led through studious ways,
Yet brightened by the Muses' smile.
We two have kept my picture true,
And daily more and more it shone,
Till other fingers laid a hue
Upon it, and it sank in tone.
And daily more and more it shone,
Till other fingers laid a hue
Upon it, and it sank in tone.
Still hail with me our bridal morn,
And spread the feast, and bring the wine:
Against this year of days forlorn
It makes a little circle shine.
And spread the feast, and bring the wine:
Against this year of days forlorn
It makes a little circle shine.
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