In Cornwall and Across the Sea With Poems Written in Devonshire. By Douglas B. W. Sladen |
 |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
MAIDENHOOD |
|
|
|
|
 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
211
MAIDENHOOD
—A SERENADE.
My Lady she loves me, she loves to be near,
She tells me—and oft—that my friendship is dear;
But, if I dare whisper one hint of my love,
Turns cold as the Lady of Even above.
She tells me—and oft—that my friendship is dear;
But, if I dare whisper one hint of my love,
Turns cold as the Lady of Even above.
Her heart is as warm as the Lord of the Day,
Her sunshine is clouded when I am away,
And yet if I venture that question to ask
Which, granted, allows her for ever to bask,
Her sunshine is clouded when I am away,
And yet if I venture that question to ask
Which, granted, allows her for ever to bask,
She flies to the shadow, which bashfulness throws
To check the sun's fervour from forcing the rose;
And days of coy wooing but slowly recall
The sunshine of friendship when shadows befall.
To check the sun's fervour from forcing the rose;
And days of coy wooing but slowly recall
The sunshine of friendship when shadows befall.
212
Were women as sunny, in wooing as we,
The shadows which chequer our courtship would flee;
Were men but as mooncold in wooing, their lives
Would seldom be lit with the sunshine of wives.
The shadows which chequer our courtship would flee;
Were men but as mooncold in wooing, their lives
Would seldom be lit with the sunshine of wives.
She loves me, my lady:—she stays in the sun,
Though doubting, for aid, to the shadows to run;
The rosebud is blushing to ope to the heat,
And the scent, as she bursts into blossom, is sweet.
Though doubting, for aid, to the shadows to run;
The rosebud is blushing to ope to the heat,
And the scent, as she bursts into blossom, is sweet.
My lady, she loves me, and whispers it oft,
Not timid and cold now but timid and soft;
Both morning and even her sun she'd have light,
Like the sun of the north upon midsummer night.
Not timid and cold now but timid and soft;
Both morning and even her sun she'd have light,
Like the sun of the north upon midsummer night.
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |