 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
15
I WOULD TELL HIM THAT I LOVE HIM.
I would tell him that I love him, but I know my tongue would fail,
For his heart is proud and haughty, and would scorn the simple tale;
Since my feet have never wandered from the home where I was born,
Save among the pleasant meadows and the fields of yellow corn.
For his heart is proud and haughty, and would scorn the simple tale;
Since my feet have never wandered from the home where I was born,
Save among the pleasant meadows and the fields of yellow corn.
No! my lips shall never speak it, for he knows I love him now!
He has seen the burning blushes on my cheek and on my brow;
He has heard my accent falter when he said that we must part,
And he must have read the writing that is written in my heart!
He has seen the burning blushes on my cheek and on my brow;
He has heard my accent falter when he said that we must part,
And he must have read the writing that is written in my heart!
Unlearned am I in eloquence, save that of gentle words,
And I never harked to music that was sweeter than the birds'—
O! if his haughty mother knew I loved but half so well,
She would hate me with a bitterness that words could never tell!
And I never harked to music that was sweeter than the birds'—
O! if his haughty mother knew I loved but half so well,
She would hate me with a bitterness that words could never tell!
I 've left my gentle sister and her ever warm embrace
When I knew that young Sir Richard would be coming from the chase;
For somehow oft it chances in our rambles that we meet,
And I think—shall I deny it?—that a stolen kiss is sweet!
When I knew that young Sir Richard would be coming from the chase;
For somehow oft it chances in our rambles that we meet,
And I think—shall I deny it?—that a stolen kiss is sweet!
Last night I dreamed I stood with him before a man of prayer,
With the garland of white blossoms, that he gave me, in my hair;
And he called me by a dearer name than sister, or than friend—
O! how I wish so sweet a dream had never had an end!
With the garland of white blossoms, that he gave me, in my hair;
And he called me by a dearer name than sister, or than friend—
O! how I wish so sweet a dream had never had an end!
16
Not for his lordly castles and his acres of broad land
Do I love young Richard Percy; for with but his heart and hand,
A cabin in the wilderness, a cavern by the sea,
Or a tent in the wide desert, would be home enough for me.
Do I love young Richard Percy; for with but his heart and hand,
A cabin in the wilderness, a cavern by the sea,
Or a tent in the wide desert, would be home enough for me.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |