 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
257
A VAGARY.
Margery, close the door; we'll sit us here
And muse a little on this New Year's day,
Making the past and distant things come near,
Arousing sleeping fancy into play,
And strewing flowers along the wintry way.
And muse a little on this New Year's day,
Making the past and distant things come near,
Arousing sleeping fancy into play,
And strewing flowers along the wintry way.
Come, sweetheart, to my side, that I may look
Upon the mirror of your lustrous eyes,
And read my fate anew, as in a book
Writ full of most bewitching mysteries;
Saving while perilling by their bright ministries.
Upon the mirror of your lustrous eyes,
And read my fate anew, as in a book
Writ full of most bewitching mysteries;
Saving while perilling by their bright ministries.
Those ringlets, Margery, rich in glossy gold,
Lay them yet closer, dearest, to my cheek;
The whispered word is tenderer, manifold,
And silence is the deepest tone we speak,
When, themed in one, our souls one channel seek.
Lay them yet closer, dearest, to my cheek;
The whispered word is tenderer, manifold,
And silence is the deepest tone we speak,
When, themed in one, our souls one channel seek.
That lily hand! its pulses thrill my own
With sweet emotion, like the thrill of song;
What wealth's possession e'er has this outshone
That lies extended on my palm along—
This little hand round which such beauties throng!
With sweet emotion, like the thrill of song;
What wealth's possession e'er has this outshone
That lies extended on my palm along—
This little hand round which such beauties throng!
258
Smile, dear one, thus; though not alone the smile
Bespeaks the ruling of the blissful thought;
Tears have their mission of delight the while,
And joy is fullest when with sadness fraught—
A fabric of a deeper, subtler substance wrought.
Bespeaks the ruling of the blissful thought;
Tears have their mission of delight the while,
And joy is fullest when with sadness fraught—
A fabric of a deeper, subtler substance wrought.
There's music, Margery, in your gentle voice,
Like the unwritten melody of birds,
That in its utterance bids the heart rejoice,
Though it take not the garniture of words;
Æolus sweeping o'er the vibrant chords.
Like the unwritten melody of birds,
That in its utterance bids the heart rejoice,
Though it take not the garniture of words;
Æolus sweeping o'er the vibrant chords.
[OMITTED]
She's gone! a trick of tantalizing Time
That plays strange fancies with the old and young;
Returning scenes of romance or of rhyme
That all of us have either lived or sung;
Blossoms of joy that faded soon as sprung.
That plays strange fancies with the old and young;
Returning scenes of romance or of rhyme
That all of us have either lived or sung;
Blossoms of joy that faded soon as sprung.
Gone, Margery! Closed the door. 'Tis thus we muse
On some pet memory that the time obtrudes,
And each his sweet and bitter dream renews
Of Might-have-beens that come in multitudes,
While fancy holds the light, and all of fact excludes.
On some pet memory that the time obtrudes,
And each his sweet and bitter dream renews
Of Might-have-beens that come in multitudes,
While fancy holds the light, and all of fact excludes.
What though the wintry winds blow madly by,
And aqueous fingers tap the window pane,
I sit in slippered state, my fireside nigh,
And, with a reckless vagrancy of brain,
Weave dreams of beauty I would dream again.
And aqueous fingers tap the window pane,
I sit in slippered state, my fireside nigh,
And, with a reckless vagrancy of brain,
Weave dreams of beauty I would dream again.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |