 | A lover's diary |  |
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10. PART X.
CONVERSATIONS.
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[I. Ah, blame me gently, though I sit for hours]
Ah, blame me gently, though I sit for hours
Without a word to say, for words offend
The meanings of my heart, O dearest friend,
And, sweet and silent, as the hues in flowers,
Beneath thy smiling all my thoughts do blend.
Without a word to say, for words offend
The meanings of my heart, O dearest friend,
And, sweet and silent, as the hues in flowers,
Beneath thy smiling all my thoughts do blend.
And though I seem to woo thee in strange wise,
And from thy glances drop my eyelids down,
Or clip thy tender blushes with a frown,
Thou, sweetest, wilt forgive the rebel guise
Worn by a heart too loyally thine own.
And from thy glances drop my eyelids down,
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Thou, sweetest, wilt forgive the rebel guise
Worn by a heart too loyally thine own.
For when I answer with so poor a grace
Thy darling witcheries, 't is but a feint
To put a mist between me and my saint
Lest I fall blind with gazing on her face;
But thou hast felt, not seen, the worship meant.
Thy darling witcheries, 't is but a feint
To put a mist between me and my saint
Lest I fall blind with gazing on her face;
But thou hast felt, not seen, the worship meant.
Should I make bolder courtship, pray thee rise
And shade the lamp, and trim the evening fire,
Lest I should clothe my love in the attire
Of homely phrases, and thy sovereign eyes
Refuse the heaven to which I dare aspire.
And shade the lamp, and trim the evening fire,
Lest I should clothe my love in the attire
Of homely phrases, and thy sovereign eyes
Refuse the heaven to which I dare aspire.
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II
MONA ASKS ME TO SING.
“Sing me a song, sing me a song!”
“Well, what shall it be?”
“Sing of a cowboy, keeping cows
In a pasture by the sea;
And make it sweet, and make it sweet,
As ever it can be.”
“Well, what shall it be?”
“Sing of a cowboy, keeping cows
In a pasture by the sea;
And make it sweet, and make it sweet,
As ever it can be.”
“A heap of rocks upon one hand,
Rough with old history,
And on the other, high green land,
Leaving flower and tree,
And going down to sit at the feet
Of the cold, complaining sea.
Rough with old history,
And on the other, high green land,
Leaving flower and tree,
And going down to sit at the feet
Of the cold, complaining sea.
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“Far off, a broken, chalky hill,
Rising bleak and high;
On her shoulder white a village, that
Is toppling on the sky;
And a brook with the fingers of the grass
In his watery curls, close by.
Rising bleak and high;
On her shoulder white a village, that
Is toppling on the sky;
And a brook with the fingers of the grass
In his watery curls, close by.
“I do not care to have him fair,
Either in face or limb,
But, as through a cup of porcelain,
A red rose showeth, dim,
So, through the clay he weareth, make
His spirit show in him
Either in face or limb,
But, as through a cup of porcelain,
A red rose showeth, dim,
So, through the clay he weareth, make
His spirit show in him
“So great, he cares not to be great
In the proud, repelling eyes
Of the world outside the hem of pines
That round his pasture lies,—
Just poor enough to feel he is rich,—
Simple enough to be wise.
In the proud, repelling eyes
Of the world outside the hem of pines
That round his pasture lies,—
Just poor enough to feel he is rich,—
Simple enough to be wise.
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III.
I ASK MONA TO SING.
“Devise a little song of love,
And set thee like a picture there?
Thou givest me a task above
What any mortal hand may dare!
And set thee like a picture there?
Thou givest me a task above
What any mortal hand may dare!
So tender, and so true of heart;
So meekly great, so wisely good;
I could not paint thee as thou art,
And would not, darling, if I could.
So meekly great, so wisely good;
I could not paint thee as thou art,
And would not, darling, if I could.
Though fond the task, I must forbear,
Or, painting, do thee grievous wrong;
Else, darling, all men everywhere
Will know thee, when they read my song!
Or, painting, do thee grievous wrong;
Else, darling, all men everywhere
Will know thee, when they read my song!
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But were this not,—could words portray
Our love? the sweetest ever chose?
What can the dull, cold shadow say
About the red, ripe, living rose?
Our love? the sweetest ever chose?
What can the dull, cold shadow say
About the red, ripe, living rose?
Ask me no song! words lose their power
Where true enthronéd Love doth sit,
And fall like dew-drops from a flower
When the wind comes and kisses it.
Where true enthronéd Love doth sit,
And fall like dew-drops from a flower
When the wind comes and kisses it.
Such music who should understand,
Though my heart sung it, beat by beat?
Ah, we are travellers in a land
Where no man speaks our language, sweet!”
Though my heart sung it, beat by beat?
Ah, we are travellers in a land
Where no man speaks our language, sweet!”
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[IV. I said, “I have a tale to tell!”]
I said, “I have a tale to tell!”
I said it with a blush and sigh;
We were together at the well,
Mona, my little love, and I;
Serenely up the cloudless sky
The queen moon walked in grace alone;
And, with her cheek and hair o'erblown
With light, as with a golden veil,
She stood and waited for the tale.
I said it with a blush and sigh;
We were together at the well,
Mona, my little love, and I;
Serenely up the cloudless sky
The queen moon walked in grace alone;
And, with her cheek and hair o'erblown
With light, as with a golden veil,
She stood and waited for the tale.
About her little shining head
A wreath of wilding flowers she wore:
Brown, streaked with amber, white and red,
Their like I oft had seen before,
Yet did not know that they were fair,
Until she had them in her hair.
How tenderly my memory notes
Each tithe that made my bliss complete,
The very way her petticoats
Fell dainty round her twinkling feet;
And how, betwixt the stones so blue,
A wild and straggling brier-bush grew;
And how the side against the sun
Shone with a dozen flowers for one
Upon the other, in the shade;
That brier-bush a text I made,
And preached a sermon very wise,
And Mona told me with her eyes
She never heard so sweet a one;
That we would always live in the sun,
And make our lives on all sides that bright,
And so we have done since that night.
A wreath of wilding flowers she wore:
Brown, streaked with amber, white and red,
Their like I oft had seen before,
Yet did not know that they were fair,
Until she had them in her hair.
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Each tithe that made my bliss complete,
The very way her petticoats
Fell dainty round her twinkling feet;
And how, betwixt the stones so blue,
A wild and straggling brier-bush grew;
And how the side against the sun
Shone with a dozen flowers for one
Upon the other, in the shade;
That brier-bush a text I made,
And preached a sermon very wise,
And Mona told me with her eyes
She never heard so sweet a one;
That we would always live in the sun,
And make our lives on all sides that bright,
And so we have done since that night.
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[V. Forgive me, but I needs must press]
Forgive me, but I needs must press
One question, since I love you so;
And kiss me, darling, if it 's Yes,
And, darling, kiss me if it 's No!
One question, since I love you so;
And kiss me, darling, if it 's Yes,
And, darling, kiss me if it 's No!
It is about our marriage day,—
I fain would have it even here;
But kiss me if it 's far away,
And, darling, kiss me if it 's near!
I fain would have it even here;
But kiss me if it 's far away,
And, darling, kiss me if it 's near!
Ah, by the blushes crowding so
On cheek and brow, 't is near, I guess;
But, darling, kiss me if it 's No,
And kiss me, darling, if it 's Yes!
On cheek and brow, 't is near, I guess;
But, darling, kiss me if it 's No,
And kiss me, darling, if it 's Yes!
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And with what flowers shall you be wed?
With flowers of snow? or flowers of flame?
But be they white, or be they red,
Kiss me, my darling, all the same!
With flowers of snow? or flowers of flame?
But be they white, or be they red,
Kiss me, my darling, all the same!
And have you sewed your wedding dress?
Nay, speak not, even to whisper low;
But kiss me, darling, if it 's Yes,
And, darling, kiss me if it 's No!
Nay, speak not, even to whisper low;
But kiss me, darling, if it 's Yes,
And, darling, kiss me if it 's No!
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[VI.“I was blind till yesterday.—”]
“I was blind till yesterday.—”
“Darling, till you came to me?”
“Ay, my Charley, man of men,
I can only see since then!”
“Darling, till you came to me?”
“Ay, my Charley, man of men,
I can only see since then!”
“I was dead till yesterday.”
“Brought to life by loving me?”
“Ay, and since, as it appears,
I have lived a thousand years.”
“Brought to life by loving me?”
“Ay, and since, as it appears,
I have lived a thousand years.”
“Tell me, thou of longer sight,
Was the world as fair and bright
E'er that we two loved so well?”
“How, my Mona, should I tell!”
Was the world as fair and bright
E'er that we two loved so well?”
“How, my Mona, should I tell!”
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“Pray thee, did the twilight close
Like the shutting of a rose?
And had morn so fair a brow?”
“How should I know, more than thou!”
Like the shutting of a rose?
And had morn so fair a brow?”
“How should I know, more than thou!”
“Did the moon's white grace invite,
Companies of stars at night,
And the sun so grandly rise?”
“I have seen but through thine eyes!”
Companies of stars at night,
And the sun so grandly rise?”
“I have seen but through thine eyes!”
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[VII. I asked my darling once if she]
I asked my darling once if she
Could tell the reason why
I loved her. Slipping from my knee,
She shook her little shining head,
And with the tears in her sweet eyes, said,
“Can I tell the reason why
You love me? No, not I.”
Could tell the reason why
I loved her. Slipping from my knee,
She shook her little shining head,
And with the tears in her sweet eyes, said,
“Can I tell the reason why
You love me? No, not I.”
I asked my darling then to tell
The reason she loved me:
Off from her face the shadow fell,
But with sweet trouble still perplexed,
Smiling and pouting, pleased and vexed,
She said, coming back to me,
And sitting on my knee:
The reason she loved me:
Off from her face the shadow fell,
But with sweet trouble still perplexed,
Smiling and pouting, pleased and vexed,
She said, coming back to me,
And sitting on my knee:
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“I pray thee to the lily go,
And ask her why she is white;
Ask the rose why she blushes so;
Ask the fountain with moss o'ergrown
How came the brooklet to run alone,
Laughing out of her sight,
From shadows into the light!”
And ask her why she is white;
Ask the rose why she blushes so;
Ask the fountain with moss o'ergrown
How came the brooklet to run alone,
Laughing out of her sight,
From shadows into the light!”
I felt my cheek with shame grow hot,
So mean it seemed to be
Questioning love that questioned not;
For never daisy came to the May
With sweeter trust than she that day
Came and sat on my knee,
Praising and kissing me.
So mean it seemed to be
Questioning love that questioned not;
For never daisy came to the May
With sweeter trust than she that day
Came and sat on my knee,
Praising and kissing me.
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[VIII. How, my love, shall I make thy bed]
“How, my love, shall I make thy bed?
Out of the field-lilies, yellow and red?”
“Nay, on thy bosom I'll rest my head.”
Out of the field-lilies, yellow and red?”
“Nay, on thy bosom I'll rest my head.”
“Where, my love, shall thy lodging be?
By the rock, or under the greenwood tree?”
“Anywhere, so it is only with thee!”
By the rock, or under the greenwood tree?”
“Anywhere, so it is only with thee!”
“What will thy supper be? honey, or dew?
Or sweetest mulberries, black all through?”
“Only thy kisses, so fond and true.”
Or sweetest mulberries, black all through?”
“Only thy kisses, so fond and true.”
“Shall I call the wood-dove away from her nest
To make thee a lullaby, dearest and best?”
“Nay, in thy praises I only can rest.”
To make thee a lullaby, dearest and best?”
“Nay, in thy praises I only can rest.”
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