 | In Russet & Silver |  |
70
TO A CHILD OF FIFTEEN
Jasmine of girlhood, thou whose star—
Unlike those planets poised afar—
Hangs near, as thou art, sweet and pure
In household foliage warm, demure;
Unlike those planets poised afar—
Hangs near, as thou art, sweet and pure
In household foliage warm, demure;
Take this dusk heart beneath thy sway!
Bend, graceful Jasmine, bend my way!
Thy trumpet-note of perfume blow
Across the path by which I go.
Bend, graceful Jasmine, bend my way!
Thy trumpet-note of perfume blow
Across the path by which I go.
Too dry would be the dust, too harsh
The herbage of the holt and marsh,
Were there no bowers, the dewy shrine
Of homely-scented stars like thine.
The herbage of the holt and marsh,
Were there no bowers, the dewy shrine
Of homely-scented stars like thine.
Then let me by thine innocence
Be weaned from too-sagacious sense;
Let him on whom thy flower hath smiled
Grow milkier-hearted than a child.
Be weaned from too-sagacious sense;
Let him on whom thy flower hath smiled
Grow milkier-hearted than a child.
| In Russet & Silver | |