 | The Woodman, and other poems |  |
10
TO JULIA.
I.
I am not dumb,
When to thee I come;
'Tis only that thine eye,
Puts out my reply.
When to thee I come;
'Tis only that thine eye,
Puts out my reply.
A chosen word,
My tongue could thee afford,
Were not thy ear,
Too beautiful to hear!
My tongue could thee afford,
Were not thy ear,
Too beautiful to hear!
In thy warm, hazel eye,
Some deeper colors lie,
Than I have felt elsewhere,
In sky, or sea, or air.
Some deeper colors lie,
Than I have felt elsewhere,
In sky, or sea, or air.
11
In that persuasive mouth,
Still heaps the south
Its orange-bloom,
And makes the lip perfume.
Still heaps the south
Its orange-bloom,
And makes the lip perfume.
Thy cheek whose tint is soft
May gently float aloft,
There, for angelic shows
Paint its smooth, peachen rose.
May gently float aloft,
There, for angelic shows
Paint its smooth, peachen rose.
And if a seraph dare,
To steal thy raven hair,
To ornament his plume,
It darkened that high room.
To steal thy raven hair,
To ornament his plume,
It darkened that high room.
Why wilt thou on me smile,
From a divine profile,
And in thy easy chair,
Show so much beauty there?
From a divine profile,
And in thy easy chair,
Show so much beauty there?
Or wilt thou dream that I,
Can look in that dark eye,
And no kind feeling share,
With that which is so rare?
Can look in that dark eye,
And no kind feeling share,
With that which is so rare?
12
No love between us goes,
Thou art an unplucked rose,
And yet thy rich perfume,
Hangs sweetly in the room.
Thou art an unplucked rose,
And yet thy rich perfume,
Hangs sweetly in the room.
If thorny is the hedge,
I stand on its bright edge,
And plums and cherries see,
And peaches not for me.
I stand on its bright edge,
And plums and cherries see,
And peaches not for me.
The grape I cannot steal,
Nor the ripe pear conceal,
But still my eye can see,
The richness of the tree.
Nor the ripe pear conceal,
But still my eye can see,
The richness of the tree.
Who eats sweet fruit is cloyed,
And 't is bliss unalloyed,
To trace the beauty there,
Through the soft, golden air.
And 't is bliss unalloyed,
To trace the beauty there,
Through the soft, golden air.
II.
I worshipped at the shrine,
I brought the fruit and wine,
Milk and rich olives spread,
And wreaths for thy dear head.
I brought the fruit and wine,
13
And wreaths for thy dear head.
I might have worshipped there,
Until my youthful hair
Had turned to silver gray,
And come my latest day.
Until my youthful hair
Had turned to silver gray,
And come my latest day.
What is a goddess worth,
If she smile not henceforth,
And if the worshipper
Has no return from her?
If she smile not henceforth,
And if the worshipper
Has no return from her?
Thine eye might be as sweet,
As the soft hues that meet
Within the sunny brook,
Yet never on me look.
As the soft hues that meet
Within the sunny brook,
Yet never on me look.
And honied be thy mouth,
As the unvaried south,
But if thou breath'st not here,
A winter I must fear.
As the unvaried south,
But if thou breath'st not here,
A winter I must fear.
I should have soothed thy heart,
Thou wouldst have felt the smart
Of love, as sweet as pleasure,
That flows from other measure.
Thou wouldst have felt the smart
14
That flows from other measure.
We might have ended pain,
And filed away the chain
Of dullness and the world,
Love's silken flag unfurled.
And filed away the chain
Of dullness and the world,
Love's silken flag unfurled.
Thy cheek had been as smooth,
After my kisses sooth
Had stirred some blushes there,
Amid the peachen air?
After my kisses sooth
Had stirred some blushes there,
Amid the peachen air?
| The Woodman, and other poems | |