 | Ernest |  |
They tarried there awhile—
Long while, yet short, since winged by gamesomeness:
Until their frolic from its zesty height
Sank down, self-spent—onward was then their wish—
And peering eyes looked o'er the beetling cliff
Which way were likeliest: warily then
They tried each foothold on the nether steep,
Oft shifting th' unsafe trial—craggy heights
Have craggy falls—ambition drudges up
With yet worse danger down. So envying
The bee his humming-winged security,
As from heath-blooms his honeydew he sucked,
They stepped from mound to mound, from stone to stone,
Or where green hussocks seemed to meet their tread,
Springing from pressure—or the bushy when
Gave a hand-grasp, where else the turf, tho' soft
Yet slippery, had played traitor to the foot,
Beguiling with smooth show. Love is himself
Then most, and then his spirit most a-glow,
When he hath charge to watch o'er loveliness
And ward all harm from her. Then is he swift
As his own shafts, sportively glancing here,
And gleaming there. Then, too, most beauteous
Is woman's beauty, and her grace shown forth
Most gracefully, when like a dove she flies
To the warm bosom she hath chosen her
For trust and for home-shelter.
Long while, yet short, since winged by gamesomeness:
Until their frolic from its zesty height
Sank down, self-spent—onward was then their wish—
And peering eyes looked o'er the beetling cliff
Which way were likeliest: warily then
They tried each foothold on the nether steep,
Oft shifting th' unsafe trial—craggy heights
Have craggy falls—ambition drudges up
With yet worse danger down. So envying
The bee his humming-winged security,
As from heath-blooms his honeydew he sucked,
They stepped from mound to mound, from stone to stone,
Or where green hussocks seemed to meet their tread,
Springing from pressure—or the bushy when
Gave a hand-grasp, where else the turf, tho' soft
Yet slippery, had played traitor to the foot,
Beguiling with smooth show. Love is himself
Then most, and then his spirit most a-glow,
When he hath charge to watch o'er loveliness
And ward all harm from her. Then is he swift
As his own shafts, sportively glancing here,
And gleaming there. Then, too, most beauteous
Is woman's beauty, and her grace shown forth
99
To the warm bosom she hath chosen her
For trust and for home-shelter.
| Ernest | |