 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
LOVE POEMS.
WOULD N'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW?
A MADRIGAL.
I.
I know a girl with teeth of pearl,And shoulders white as snow;
She lives,—ah! well,
I must not tell,—
Would n't you like to know?
II.
Her sunny hair is wondrous fair,And wavy in its flow;
Who made it less
One little tress,—
Would n't you like to know?
III.
Her eyes are blue (celestial hue!)And dazzling in their glow;
On whom they beam
With melting gleam,—
Would n't you like to know?
IV.
Her lips are red and finely wed,Like roses ere they blow;
What lover sips
Those dewy lips,—
Would n't you like to know?
V.
Her fingers are like lilies fairWhen lilies fairest grow;
Whose hand they press
With fond caress,—
Would n't you like to know?
VI.
Her foot is small, and has a fallLike snowflakes on the snow;
And where it goes
Beneath the rose,—
Would n't you like to know?
VII.
She has a name, the sweetest nameThat language can bestow.
'T would break the spell
If I should tell,—
Would n't you like to know?
THE LOVER'S VISION.
I.
In my watching or my dreaming,Came to me a blesséd vision;
Whether real or but seeming,
Boots me not to make decision:
This I know—'t was all elysian.
II.
By me sat a maiden fairerThan the Oda's king possesses;
But I wrong her to compare her.
Happy, happy whom she blesses
With her kisses and caresses!
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III.
Golden hair, like sunlight streamingOn the marble of her shoulder,
That with soft and snowy gleaming
Witched the eye of the beholder,
Dazed me, crazed me to enfold her!
IV.
Heart to heart we sat together;(Ah, to feel her bosom's beating!)
Hand in hand in loving tether,
Lip with lip in rapture meeting,
Parting but for closer greeting.
V.
Oft and oft I would be dreaming,Could I bring that happy vision!
Was it real, or but seeming?
Boots me not to make decision:
This I know—'t was all elysian.
THE OATH.
“Don't forget me!” sighing sadly,
So my darling bade farewell,
Haply deeming I would gladly
Disenchant me of her spell.
So my darling bade farewell,
Haply deeming I would gladly
Disenchant me of her spell.
Ah, the siren! when did Beauty
Ask in vain Love's simple debt?
Or whene'er did languid Duty
Heed the warning, “Don't forget”?
Ask in vain Love's simple debt?
Or whene'er did languid Duty
Heed the warning, “Don't forget”?
By her eyes where love reposes,
By her wealth of golden hair,
By her cheek's ungathered roses,
By her neck divinely fair,
By her wealth of golden hair,
By her cheek's ungathered roses,
By her neck divinely fair,
By her bosom, throne of blisses,
Hiding from the wanton light,
Pale with envy at the kisses
That her bolder lips invite;
Hiding from the wanton light,
Pale with envy at the kisses
That her bolder lips invite;
By the hours so sweetly squandered
In the summer afternoons;
By the orchard where we wandered
In the sheen of harvest moons;
In the summer afternoons;
By the orchard where we wandered
In the sheen of harvest moons;
By the poets, new and olden,
Who in pity lent us speech
For the fancies, rare and golden,
That our words could never reach,—
Who in pity lent us speech
For the fancies, rare and golden,
That our words could never reach,—
By all these my oath is given:
Though my soul remember not
Earthly fame or hope of heaven,
She shall never be forgot!
Though my soul remember not
Earthly fame or hope of heaven,
She shall never be forgot!
UNREST.
One o'clock! and still I ponder
On the joys of yesterday;
Never lover weaker, fonder,
Sighed the weary hours away.
On the joys of yesterday;
Never lover weaker, fonder,
Sighed the weary hours away.
Ill-content with saying, singing,
All its worship o'er and o'er;
Still the heart would fain be clinging,
Round its idol, evermore!
All its worship o'er and o'er;
Still the heart would fain be clinging,
Round its idol, evermore!
Half in pleasure, half in sorrow,
Thinking o'er each fervent kiss,
Still I vainly strive to borrow
From the Past its buried bliss.
Thinking o'er each fervent kiss,
Still I vainly strive to borrow
From the Past its buried bliss.
Now I hear her fondly sighing,
As when late we sat alone,
While the dancer's feet were flying,—
Ah! the sigh is but my own!
As when late we sat alone,
While the dancer's feet were flying,—
Ah! the sigh is but my own!
“Thus my darling I would smother!”
In my dreaming oft I say.
Foolish lips, that kiss each other!
Hers, alas! are far away.
In my dreaming oft I say.
Foolish lips, that kiss each other!
Hers, alas! are far away.
On my cheek I feel the billow
Of her glowing bosom beat,—
Ah! 't is but the pulseless pillow!
Shall I curse of bless the cheat?
Of her glowing bosom beat,—
Ah! 't is but the pulseless pillow!
Shall I curse of bless the cheat?
Dreaming, waking, I am weary.
Would that morning might appear!
Oh, 't is dreary, very dreary,
Thus to love, and not be near!
Would that morning might appear!
Oh, 't is dreary, very dreary,
Thus to love, and not be near!
TO MY LOVE.
“Da mi basia.”—
Catullus.
Catullus.
I.
Kiss me softly and speak to me low;Malice has ever a vigilant ear;
What if Malice were lurking near?
Kiss me, dear!
Kiss me softly and speak to me low.
II.
Kiss me softly and speak to me low;Envy too has a watchful ear;
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Kiss me, dear!
Kiss me softly and speak to me low.
III.
Kiss me softly and speak to me low;Trust me, darling, the time is near
When we may love with never a fear;
Kiss me, dear!
Kiss me softly and speak to me low.
TO LESBIA.
“On s'embrasse à chaque instant,
Puis encore!”
Victor Hugo.
Puis encore!”
Victor Hugo.
I.
Give me kisses! Do not stay,Counting in that careful way.
All the coins your lips can print
Never will exhaust the mint.
Kiss me, then,
Every moment—and again!
II.
Give me kisses! Do not stop,Measuring nectar by the drop.
Though to millions they amount,
They will never drain the fount.
Kiss me, then,
Every moment—and again!
III.
Give me kisses! All is wasteSave the luxury we taste;
And for kissing,—kisses live
Only when we take or give.
Kiss me, then,
Every moment—and again!
IV.
Give me kisses! Though their worthFar exceeds the gems of earth,
Never pearls so rich and pure
Cost so little, I am sure.
Kiss me, then,
Every moment—and again!
V.
Give me kisses! Nay, 't is trueI am just as rich as you;
And for every kiss I owe,
I can pay you back, you know.
Kiss me, then,
Every moment—and again!
MY SAXON BLONDE.
They say the dark-eyed maids of Spain
Are passionate and fond;
But eyes of blue are tender and true,—
Give me my Saxon blonde!
Are passionate and fond;
But eyes of blue are tender and true,—
Give me my Saxon blonde!
An arch coquette is the bright brunette,
Blithe and merry and gay;
Her love may last till the Summer is past,
But my blonde's forever and aye!
Blithe and merry and gay;
Her love may last till the Summer is past,
But my blonde's forever and aye!
If bards of old the truth have told,
The Sirens have raven hair;
But o'er the earth, since art had birth,
They paint the Angels fair.
The Sirens have raven hair;
But o'er the earth, since art had birth,
They paint the Angels fair.
Ah! well, maybe, the truth to see,
A lover is over fond;
And I can't deny—nor will I try—
My love is a golden blonde!
A lover is over fond;
And I can't deny—nor will I try—
My love is a golden blonde!
DARLING, TELL ME YES.
A SONG.
I.
One little moment more, Maud;One little whisper more;
I have a word to speak, Maud,
I never breathed before.
What can it be but love, Maud?
And do I rightly guess
'T is pleasant to your ear, Maud?
O darling! tell me yes!
II.
The burden of my heart, Maud,There's little need to tell;
There 's little need to say, Maud,
I 've loved you long and well.
There 's language in a sigh, Maud,
One's meaning to express;
And yours—was it for me, Maud?
O darling! tell me yes!
III.
My eyes have told my love, Maud;And on my burning cheek
You 've read the tender thought, Maud,
My lips refused to speak.
I gave you all my heart, Maud,
'T is needless to confess;
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O darling! tell me yes!
IV.
'T is sad to starve a love, Maud,So worshipful and true;
I know a little cot, Maud,
Quite large enough for two;
And you will be my wife, Maud?
So may you ever bless,
Through all your sunny life, Maud,
The day you answered yes!
TIME AND LOVE.
AN ALLEGORY.
Old Time and young Love, on a morning in May,
Chanced to meet by a river in halcyon weather,
And, agreeing for once ('t is a fable, you'll say),
In the same little boat made a voyage together.
Chanced to meet by a river in halcyon weather,
And, agreeing for once ('t is a fable, you'll say),
In the same little boat made a voyage together.
Strong, steady, and patient, Time pulled at his oar,
And swift o'er the water the voyagers go;
But Love, who was thinking of Pleasure on shore,
Complained that his boatman was wretchedly slow.
And swift o'er the water the voyagers go;
But Love, who was thinking of Pleasure on shore,
Complained that his boatman was wretchedly slow.
But Time, the old sailor, expert at his trade,
And knowing the leagues that remained to be done,
Content with the regular speed that he made,
Tugged away at his oar and kept steadily on.
And knowing the leagues that remained to be done,
Content with the regular speed that he made,
Tugged away at his oar and kept steadily on.
Love, always impatient of doubt or delay,
Now sighed for the aid of the favoring gales,
And scolded at Time, in the sauciest way,
For not having furnished the shallop with sails.
Now sighed for the aid of the favoring gales,
And scolded at Time, in the sauciest way,
For not having furnished the shallop with sails.
But Time, as serene as a calendar saint
(Whatever the graybeard was thinking upon),
All deaf to the voice of the younker's complaint,
Tugged away at his oar and kept steadily on.
(Whatever the graybeard was thinking upon),
All deaf to the voice of the younker's complaint,
Tugged away at his oar and kept steadily on.
Love, vexed at the heart, only clamored the more,
And cried, “By the gods! in what country or clime
Was ever a lubber who handled an oar
In so lazy a fashion as old Father Time?”
And cried, “By the gods! in what country or clime
Was ever a lubber who handled an oar
In so lazy a fashion as old Father Time?”
But Time only smiled in a cynical way
('T is often the mode with your elderly Don),
As one who knows more than he cares to display,
And still at his oar pulled steadily on.
('T is often the mode with your elderly Don),
As one who knows more than he cares to display,
And still at his oar pulled steadily on.
Grown calmer at last, the exuberant boy
Enlivens the minutes with snatches of rhyme;
The voyage, at length, he begins to enjoy,
And soon has forgotten the presence of Time!
Enlivens the minutes with snatches of rhyme;
The voyage, at length, he begins to enjoy,
And soon has forgotten the presence of Time!
But Time, the severe, egotistical elf,
Since the day that his travels he entered upon,
Has ne'er for a moment forgotten himself,
But tugs at his oar and keeps steadily on.
Since the day that his travels he entered upon,
Has ne'er for a moment forgotten himself,
But tugs at his oar and keeps steadily on.
Awaking once more, Love sees with a sigh
That the River of Life will be presently passed,
And now he breaks forth with a piteous cry,
“O Time, gentle Time! you are rowing too fast!”
That the River of Life will be presently passed,
And now he breaks forth with a piteous cry,
“O Time, gentle Time! you are rowing too fast!”
But Time, well knowing that Love will be dead,
Dead,—dead! in the boat!—ere the voyage is done,
Only gives him an ominous shake of the head,
While he tugs at his oar and keeps steadily on!
Dead,—dead! in the boat!—ere the voyage is done,
Only gives him an ominous shake of the head,
While he tugs at his oar and keeps steadily on!
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LOVE'S CALENDAR.
TO AN ABSENT WIFE.
O since 'tis decreed by the envious Fates,
All deaf to the clamoring heart,
That the truest and fondest of conjugal mates
Shall often be sighing apart;
All deaf to the clamoring heart,
That the truest and fondest of conjugal mates
Shall often be sighing apart;
Since the Days of our absence are many and sad,
And the Hours of our meeting are few,
Ah! what in a case so exceedingly bad,
Can the deepest philosophy do?
And the Hours of our meeting are few,
Ah! what in a case so exceedingly bad,
Can the deepest philosophy do?
Pray what can we do,—unfortunate elves,
Unconscious of folly or crime,—
But make a new Calendar up for ourselves,
For the better appraisal of time?
Unconscious of folly or crime,—
But make a new Calendar up for ourselves,
For the better appraisal of time?
And the Hours alone shall the Calendar fill
(While Blanks show their distance apart),
Just sufficiently near to keep off the chill
That else might be freezing the heart;
(While Blanks show their distance apart),
Just sufficiently near to keep off the chill
That else might be freezing the heart;
And each Hour shall be such a glorious hour,
Its moments so precious and dear,
That in breadth, and in depth, and in bliss-giving power,
It may fairly be reckoned a year!
Its moments so precious and dear,
That in breadth, and in depth, and in bliss-giving power,
It may fairly be reckoned a year!
THE LAWYER'S VALENTINE.
I'm notified, fair neighbor mine,
By one of our profession,
That this—the Term of Valentine—
Is Cupid's Special Session.
By one of our profession,
That this—the Term of Valentine—
Is Cupid's Special Session.
Permit me, therefore, to report
Myself, on this occasion,
Quite ready to proceed to Court,
And File my Declaration.
Myself, on this occasion,
Quite ready to proceed to Court,
And File my Declaration.
I've an Attachment for you, too;
A legal and a strong one;
Oh, yield unto the Process, do;
Nor let it be a long one!
A legal and a strong one;
Oh, yield unto the Process, do;
Nor let it be a long one!
No scowling bailiff lurks behind;
He 'd be a precious noddy,
Who, failing to Arrest the mind,
Should go and Take the Body!
He 'd be a precious noddy,
Who, failing to Arrest the mind,
Should go and Take the Body!
For though a form like yours might throw
A sculptor in distraction;
I could n't serve a Capias,—no,
I 'd scorn so base an action!
A sculptor in distraction;
I could n't serve a Capias,—no,
I 'd scorn so base an action!
Oh, do not tell me of your youth,
And turn away demurely;
For though you 're very young, in truth,
You 're not an Infant surely!
And turn away demurely;
For though you 're very young, in truth,
You 're not an Infant surely!
The Case is everything to me;
My heart is love's own tissue;
Don't plead a Dilatory Plea;
Let 's have the General Issue!
My heart is love's own tissue;
Don't plead a Dilatory Plea;
Let 's have the General Issue!
Or, since you've really no Defense,
Why not, this present Session,
Omitting all absurd pretense,
Give judgment by Confession?
Why not, this present Session,
Omitting all absurd pretense,
Give judgment by Confession?
So shall you be my lawful wife;
And I—your faithful lover—
Be Tenant of your heart for Life,
With no Remainder over!
And I—your faithful lover—
Be Tenant of your heart for Life,
With no Remainder over!
A REASONABLE PETITION.
You say, dearest girl, you esteem me,And hint of respectful regard,
And I'm certain it would n't beseem me,
Such an excellent gift to discard.
But even the Graces, you'll own,
Would lose half their beauty apart;
And Esteem, when she stands all alone,
Looks most unbecomingly tart.
So grant me, dear girl, this petition:—
If Esteem e'er again should come hither,
Just to keep her in cheerful condition,
Let Love come in company with her!
THE CHAPEL OF TWO SAINTS.
In a famous Tuscan city
Stands a chapel snug and small;
Some old penitent's oblation,
With a double dedication,
To St. Peter and St. Paul.
Stands a chapel snug and small;
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With a double dedication,
To St. Peter and St. Paul.
To a soul so stoutly guarded
What of evil could befall?
When was ever plan completer
Without robbery of Peter,
Paying thus his due to Paul?
What of evil could befall?
When was ever plan completer
Without robbery of Peter,
Paying thus his due to Paul?
There it was I saw a lady,
Very round and ripe and tall;
Surely never face was sweeter
Than she turned upon St. Peter,
After bowing to St. Paul.
Very round and ripe and tall;
Surely never face was sweeter
Than she turned upon St. Peter,
After bowing to St. Paul.
Long and ardently I worshiped,—
Not the Saints, nor yet their Master,
But my feminine ideal;
Mea culpa! she was real
Flesh and blood, and they were plaster!
Not the Saints, nor yet their Master,
But my feminine ideal;
Mea culpa! she was real
Flesh and blood, and they were plaster!
Good St. Anthony was tempted,
Though a frigid old divine
(Showing saints are only human),
But he never saw a woman
Half so beautiful as mine!
Though a frigid old divine
(Showing saints are only human),
But he never saw a woman
Half so beautiful as mine!
Pardon then my bad behavior
(Thus upon the twain I call),
As if you were in my case,
And were asking special grace
Of St. Peter and St. Paul!
(Thus upon the twain I call),
As if you were in my case,
And were asking special grace
Of St. Peter and St. Paul!
THE LITTLE MAID AND THE LAWYER.
A SONG.
I.
They say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,I'm the cleverest man in all the town.
Heigh-ho! says she,
What 's that to me?
But they say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
You 're the prettiest girl in all the town.
Says she, If they do,
What 's that to you?
II.
They say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,I'm the richest man in all the town.
Heigh-ho! says she,
What 's that to me?
But they say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
You ought to be dressed in a finer gown.
Says she, If they do,
What 's that to you?
III.
They say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,That Johnny Hodge is an awkward clown.
Heigh-ho! says she,
What 's that to me?
But they say, little maid, the lawyer said,
That you and Johnny are going to wed.
Says she, If we do,
What 's that to you?
DRINKING SONG.
BY A TETOTALER.
“Ex ipso fonte bibi.”—
Ovid.
Ovid.
I've been drinking, I've been drinking,
To intoxication's edge;
Do not chide me; for the tipple
Was n't mentioned in the pledge.
To intoxication's edge;
Do not chide me; for the tipple
Was n't mentioned in the pledge.
Nay, believe me,—'t was not Brandy
Wrought the roses that you see;
One may get a finer crimson
From a purer eau-de-vie.
Wrought the roses that you see;
One may get a finer crimson
From a purer eau-de-vie.
No, indeed; it was not Claret
(That were something overweak);
There 's a vastly better vintage
For the painting of a cheek.
(That were something overweak);
There 's a vastly better vintage
For the painting of a cheek.
Not Angelica,—the honey
By Loyola's children pressed
From the Andalusian clusters
Ripened in the Golden West;
By Loyola's children pressed
From the Andalusian clusters
Ripened in the Golden West;
Not Madeira, Hock, nor Sherry;
No, indeed, 't is none of these
Makes me giddy in the forehead,
Makes me tremble in the knees.
No, indeed, 't is none of these
Makes me giddy in the forehead,
Makes me tremble in the knees.
No; 't is not the Gallic “Widow”
That has turned my foolish brain,
Nor the wine of any vineyard
Found in Germany or Spain.
That has turned my foolish brain,
Nor the wine of any vineyard
Found in Germany or Spain.
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Nay—I own it!—'t is the nectar
That a favored lover sips
(All unheeding of the danger!)
From a maiden's pulpy lips!
That a favored lover sips
(All unheeding of the danger!)
From a maiden's pulpy lips!
This it is that I 've been drinking
To intoxication's edge;
Till I marvel that the tipple
Is n't mentioned in the pledge!
To intoxication's edge;
Till I marvel that the tipple
Is n't mentioned in the pledge!
For the taste is so enchanting
'T is impossible to see,
Should it grow into a habit,
What the consequence may be.
'T is impossible to see,
Should it grow into a habit,
What the consequence may be.
Well, I'll heed the sage's lesson,
Pleasant, though it prove in vain,
And by drinking very largely
Try to sober me again!
Pleasant, though it prove in vain,
And by drinking very largely
Try to sober me again!
EGO ET ECHO.
A FANTASY.
I.
I asked of Echo, 't other day(Whose words are few and often funny),
What to a novice she could say
Of courtship, love, and matrimony?
Quoth Echo, plainly: “Matter-o'-money!
II.
Whom should I marry? should it beA dashing damsel, gay and pert,—
A pattern of inconsistency;
Or selfish, mercenary flirt?
Quoth Echo, sharply: “Nary flirt!”
III.
What if, aweary of the strifeThat long has lured the dear deceiver,
She promised to amend her life,
And sin no more, can I believe her?
Quoth echo, very promptly: “Leave her!”
IV.
But if some maiden with a heart,On me should venture to bestow it:
Pray, should I act the wiser part
To take the treasure, or forego it?
Quoth Echo, with decision: “Go it!”
V.
Suppose a billet-doux (in rhyme),As warm as if Catullus penned it,
Declare her beauty so sublime
That Cytherea's can't transcend it,—
Quoth echo, very clearly: “Send it!”
VI.
But what if, seemingly afraidTo bind her fate in Hymen's fetter,
She vow she means to die a maid,—
In answer to my loving letter?
Quoth Echo, rather coolly: “Let her!”
VII.
What if, in spite of her disdain,I find my heart entwined about
With Cupid's dear delicious chain,
So closely that I can't get out?
Quoth Echo, laughingly: “Get out!”
VIII.
But if some maid with beauty blest,As pure and fair as Heaven can make her,
Will share my labor and my rest,
Till envious Death shall overtake her?
Quoth Echo (sotto voce): “Take her!”
THE MAIDEN TO THE MOON.
O moon! did you see
My lover and me
In the valley beneath the sycamore-tree?
Whatever befell,
O Moon! don't tell;
'T was nothing amiss, you know very well.
My lover and me
In the valley beneath the sycamore-tree?
Whatever befell,
O Moon! don't tell;
'T was nothing amiss, you know very well.
O Moon! you know,
A long time ago
You left the sky and descended below,
Of a Summer's night,
By your own sweet light,
To meet your Endymion on Latmos height.
A long time ago
You left the sky and descended below,
Of a Summer's night,
By your own sweet light,
To meet your Endymion on Latmos height.
And there, O Moon!
You gave him a boon,
You would n't, I'm sure, have granted at noon;
'T was nothing amiss,
Being only the bliss
Of giving—and taking—an innocent kiss!
You gave him a boon,
You would n't, I'm sure, have granted at noon;
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Being only the bliss
Of giving—and taking—an innocent kiss!
Some churlish lout,
Who was spying about,
Went off and blabbed, and so it got out;
But for all the gold
The sea could hold,
O Moon! I would n't have gone and told!
Who was spying about,
Went off and blabbed, and so it got out;
But for all the gold
The sea could hold,
O Moon! I would n't have gone and told!
So, Moon! don't tell,
Whatever befell
My lover and me in the leafy dell;
He is honest and true,
And, remember, too,
We only behaved like your lover and you!
Whatever befell
My lover and me in the leafy dell;
He is honest and true,
And, remember, too,
We only behaved like your lover and you!
DAISY DAY.
A REMINISCENCE OF TRAVEL.
It was in an Irish city,
In the pleasant month of May,
That I met the clever, pretty,
Lively, lovely Daisy Day.
Like myself, a transient ranger
From Columbia's troubled shore,
Could I deem her quite a stranger,
Though we never met before?
In the pleasant month of May,
That I met the clever, pretty,
Lively, lovely Daisy Day.
Like myself, a transient ranger
From Columbia's troubled shore,
Could I deem her quite a stranger,
Though we never met before?
Love of country—so despotic
In our precious native land—
Finds us doubly patriotic,
Straying on a foreign strand;
Hence, perhaps, her friendly manner,
And my pulse's quicker play,
When, beneath St. Patrick's banner,
I accosted Daisy Day.
In our precious native land—
Finds us doubly patriotic,
Straying on a foreign strand;
Hence, perhaps, her friendly manner,
And my pulse's quicker play,
When, beneath St. Patrick's banner,
I accosted Daisy Day.
Bless me! how all eyes were centred
On her when the parlor door
Opened, and the lady entered
Like a queen upon the floor!
'T was as if, that summer even,
Some superlative perfume,
Wafted by the breath of heaven,
Suddenly had filled the room!
On her when the parlor door
Opened, and the lady entered
Like a queen upon the floor!
'T was as if, that summer even,
Some superlative perfume,
Wafted by the breath of heaven,
Suddenly had filled the room!
Happy favorite of Nature,
Hebe in her sunny face,
Juno in her queenly stature,
More than Juno in her grace,
Eyes befitting Beauty's goddess,
Mouth to steal your heart away,
Bust that strained her ample bodice,—
Such was charming Daisy Day.
Hebe in her sunny face,
Juno in her queenly stature,
More than Juno in her grace,
Eyes befitting Beauty's goddess,
Mouth to steal your heart away,
Bust that strained her ample bodice,—
Such was charming Daisy Day.
Well, what then? Ah! Holy Mother
Pardon one pathetic sigh;
She 's the “partner” of another,
And—I own it—So am I!
But a poet owes to Beauty
More than common men can pay,
And I 've done my simple duty,
Singing thus of Daisy Day.
Pardon one pathetic sigh;
She 's the “partner” of another,
And—I own it—So am I!
But a poet owes to Beauty
More than common men can pay,
And I 've done my simple duty,
Singing thus of Daisy Day.
A SUMMER SCENE.
I saw you, lately, at an hour
To lovers reckoned dear
For tender trysts; and this is what
I chanced to see and hear:
To lovers reckoned dear
For tender trysts; and this is what
I chanced to see and hear:
You sat beneath the Summer moon,
A friend on either hand,
And one applauded your discourse,
And one—could understand.
A friend on either hand,
And one applauded your discourse,
And one—could understand.
You quoted gems of poesy
By mighty masters wrought;
And one remarked the pleasant rhyme,
And one, the golden thought.
By mighty masters wrought;
And one remarked the pleasant rhyme,
And one, the golden thought.
Your smiles (how equally bestowed!)
Upon the list'ners fell;
And one was fain to praise your eyes,
And one, to read them well.
Upon the list'ners fell;
And one was fain to praise your eyes,
And one, to read them well.
You jested in a merry vein,
And, conscious, played the child;
And one was moved to brave retort,
And one, in silence, smiled.
And, conscious, played the child;
And one was moved to brave retort,
And one, in silence, smiled.
You spoke of angel-life above
That evermore endures;
And one looked up, with lifted hands,
And one—was kissing yours!
That evermore endures;
And one looked up, with lifted hands,
And one—was kissing yours!
And then you laughed the ringing laugh
That shows a spirit glad;
And one, thereat, was very gay,
And one was something sad.
That shows a spirit glad;
And one, thereat, was very gay,
And one was something sad.
And did you guess (ah! need I ask?)
While thus they sat with you,
That one was but a light gallant,
And one a lover true?
While thus they sat with you,
That one was but a light gallant,
And one a lover true?
89
TO A BEAUTIFUL STRANGER.
A glance, a smile,—I see it yet!
A moment ere the train was starting;
How strange to tell! we scarcely met,
And yet I felt a pang at parting
A moment ere the train was starting;
How strange to tell! we scarcely met,
And yet I felt a pang at parting
And you, (alas! that all the while
'T is I alone who am confessing!)
What thought was lurking in your smile
Is quite beyond my simple guessing.
'T is I alone who am confessing!)
What thought was lurking in your smile
Is quite beyond my simple guessing.
I only know those beaming rays
Awoke in me a strange emotion,
Which, basking in their warmer blaze,
Perhaps might kindle to devotion.
Awoke in me a strange emotion,
Which, basking in their warmer blaze,
Perhaps might kindle to devotion.
Ah! many a heart as stanch as this,
By smiling lips allured from Duty,
Has sunk in Passion's dark abyss,—
“Wrecked on the coral reefs of Beauty!”
By smiling lips allured from Duty,
Has sunk in Passion's dark abyss,—
“Wrecked on the coral reefs of Beauty!”
And so, 't is well the train's swift flight
That bore away my charming stranger
Took her—God bless her!—out of sight,
And me, as quickly, out of danger!
That bore away my charming stranger
Took her—God bless her!—out of sight,
And me, as quickly, out of danger!
HERCULES SPINNING.
I.
Bond slave to Omphalè,The haughty Lydian queen,
Fond slave to Omphalè,
The beauteous Lydian queen,
Lo! Hercules is seen
Spinning, spinning like a maid,
While aside his club is laid,
And the hero boasts no more
All his doughty deeds of yore,
But with sad, submissive mien
Spinning, spinning still is seen,
Bond slave to Omphalè,
Fond slave to Omphalè,
The haughty Lydian queen.
II.
Shame! that for a woman's whim,He, so stout of heart and limb,
Must his nature so abuse
Thus his mighty arm to use,—
Not the manly mace to whirl,
But a tiny spindle twirl,
Spinning, spinning like a girl,
With a soft, submissive mien,
Bond slave to Omphalè,
Fond slave to Omphalè,
The haughty Lydian queen.
III.
Fond slave to Omphalè,—Bond slave no more;
Love has loosed whom Tyranny
Basely bound before!
The distaff now is cast aside,
And, leaning on his club in pride,
Lo! Hercules is seen
In majesty serene,—
A hero sitting by his bride,
Fair Omphalè, his queen!
IV.
Whatever mortals crave,So rule the gods above
That manly Strength is Beauty's slave,
And Beauty yields to Love.
HOW IT HAPPENED.
“Ah! we love each other well,Better far than words can tell,”
Said my charmer; “but in vain
Are my efforts to explain
How it happened. Tell me now,
Dearest, of the why and how!
Since the fact we cannot doubt,
Tell me how it came about.”
Well, my darling, I will try
To explain the how and why,
(Speaking for myself, not you;
That, of course, I cannot do.)
Not your brilliant mind alone
Could have thus enthralled my own;
Not the charm of every grace
Beaming from your sunny face;
Not your voice, though music be
Less melodious to me;
Not your kisses, sweeter far
Than the drops of Hybla are;
None of these, from each apart,
Could have so enchained my heart;
Nay, not e'en the wondrous whole
Could have fixed my wayward soul;
Had not love—your love—prevailed
All the rest had surely failed.
There! you have the reason, dear;
Is the explanation clear?
Ah! I own it seems but weak;
Half the why is yet to seek;
90
Never woman witched me so!
Happy let my charmer be,
Since her eyes in mine may see
Flashes of the hidden fire
(Half devotion, half desire),
And her ears may hear the sighs
That from yearning love arise,
Whispering, in the fondest tone,
“Take me! I am all your own!”
EXAUDI ANGELUS.
Hear thou my prayer, O angel kind!
Who brought my gladdened eyes to see
Him whom so long I yearned to find,
And gave his dear heart all to me;
O, guard him well, that I may prove
Blest in my lover and my love.
Who brought my gladdened eyes to see
Him whom so long I yearned to find,
And gave his dear heart all to me;
O, guard him well, that I may prove
Blest in my lover and my love.
And keep thou her whose fearful breast
Still trembles for its new-found joy
(Knowing, ah me! but little rest),
Lest envious maids or gods destroy
This wondrous happiness that seems
Too bright for aught save angel dreams.
Still trembles for its new-found joy
(Knowing, ah me! but little rest),
Lest envious maids or gods destroy
This wondrous happiness that seems
Too bright for aught save angel dreams.
O, bless us twain! and kindly teach;
And safely guard each hallowed name
From blighting hint or blasting speech
To make our cheeks all red for shame,
That blush not for the love they bear
In thy pure presence, angel fair.
And safely guard each hallowed name
From blighting hint or blasting speech
To make our cheeks all red for shame,
That blush not for the love they bear
In thy pure presence, angel fair.
And while, with lips that closer cling
In dread to part, we say “Farewell!”
Keep thou this love a holy thing
That in us evermore may dwell,
By circling hearth or sundering sea,
Where'er our thankful hearts may be!
In dread to part, we say “Farewell!”
Keep thou this love a holy thing
That in us evermore may dwell,
By circling hearth or sundering sea,
Where'er our thankful hearts may be!
CARL AND I.
He calls me beautiful; and I
Ask of my glass the reason why;
Alack for me!
And yet though little there I see,
I must be beautiful, I trow,
When such as he can deem me so.
Ask of my glass the reason why;
Alack for me!
And yet though little there I see,
I must be beautiful, I trow,
When such as he can deem me so.
He calls me brilliant; all in vain
I strive the wonder to explain;
Alack for me!
And yet, whate'er my fancy be,
Some spark of wit therein must glow
When such as he can think it so.
I strive the wonder to explain;
Alack for me!
And yet, whate'er my fancy be,
Some spark of wit therein must glow
When such as he can think it so.
He calls me noble; and I turn
My soul within my soul to learn;
Alack for me!
I am not proud of what I see;
And yet some goodness there must grow,
When such as he can find it so.
My soul within my soul to learn;
Alack for me!
I am not proud of what I see;
And yet some goodness there must grow,
When such as he can find it so.
He calls me lovely; and I try
To seek the specious reason why;
Alack for me!
And yet though vain my question be,
I must be lovely—well I know—
When such as he can love me so!
To seek the specious reason why;
Alack for me!
And yet though vain my question be,
I must be lovely—well I know—
When such as he can love me so!
DO I LOVE THEE?
A SONG.
Do I love thee? Ask the bee
If she loves the flowery lea
Where the honeysuckle blows
And the fragrant clover grows.
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.
If she loves the flowery lea
Where the honeysuckle blows
And the fragrant clover grows.
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.
Do I love thee? Ask the bird
When her matin song is heard,
If she loves the sky so fair,
Fleecy cloud and liquid air.
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.
When her matin song is heard,
If she loves the sky so fair,
Fleecy cloud and liquid air.
As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.
Do I love thee? Ask the flower
If she loves the vernal shower,
Or the kisses of the sun,
Or the dew, when day is done.
As the answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.
If she loves the vernal shower,
Or the kisses of the sun,
Or the dew, when day is done.
As the answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.
THE LOVER'S CONFESSION.
“Come, name my fault!” I said, “that IMay mend it.” So I made reply
To Laura, darling of my heart,
Whom long, in vain, by every art
I tried to force to franker speech.
“Do tell me plainly, I beseech,
For my soul's sake, that while I live
I may repent and Heaven forgive!”
91
And, blushing, drooped her lovely head,
As if she feared I might infer
She meant forgetfulness of her.
“And is that all?” I answered. “Well,
I own the world's enchanting spell;
The fault is one I cannot hide;
But ah! 't is not for you to chide;
Still, dearest, let me worldly be,
Since you are ‘all the world’ to me!”
A PHILOSOPHICAL QUERY.
TO ---.
If Virtue be measured by what we resist,When against Inclination we strive,
You and I have been proved, we may fairly insist,
The most virtuous mortals alive!
Now Virtue, we know, is the brightest of pearls,
But as Pleasure is hard of evasion,
Should we envy, or pity, the stoical churls
Who never have known a temptation?
LIP-SERVICE.
I.
Julia once and once again,In coquettish fashion,
Heedless of her lover's pain,
Mocked his burning passion;
“Words of worship lightly fall
From a courtier, surely;
Mere lip-service,—that is all!”
Said the maid, demurely.
II.
Then his kisses fell like dew(Just where Love would choose 'em)
On her mouth; and through and through
Thrilled her glowing bosom;
Till she felt—nor uttered she
Whisper of negation—
“Mere lip-service” still may be
Perfect adoration!
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |