 | Love-Songs |  |
SUMMER LOVE.
37
BRUISED BLOSSOMS.
My love went—flinging from her mantle fast
Along the dusty and forsaken road
Strange flowers and fruits that bloomed and shone and glowed,
Re-lighting the pale tapers of the past,
Making the wilderness a temple vast;
And a sweet woman, slighter but as fair,
Went, gathering bruised blossoms in her hair,
And round about their stems her veil she cast.
Along the dusty and forsaken road
Strange flowers and fruits that bloomed and shone and glowed,
Re-lighting the pale tapers of the past,
Making the wilderness a temple vast;
And a sweet woman, slighter but as fair,
Went, gathering bruised blossoms in her hair,
And round about their stems her veil she cast.
And unto me she brought the flowers and fruits,
Weeping, and with soft pity in her eyes,
And laid her tender hand on severed roots;
And if a bud or any petal lies
Broken, she waileth—and the sundered shoots
To re-establish in green bloom she tries.
Weeping, and with soft pity in her eyes,
And laid her tender hand on severed roots;
And if a bud or any petal lies
Broken, she waileth—and the sundered shoots
To re-establish in green bloom she tries.
38
THE LILY AND THE ROSE.
A lily with the fragrance of my rose
Mingled strange fleeting odours passing sweet,
And in the imprint of that flower's feet
Left novel tints and subtle signs of snows;
Now in my heart a double blossom blows,
And all my soul is ravished by the heat
Of summer twice inflamed, and seems to beat
Responsive as the ascending season grows.
Mingled strange fleeting odours passing sweet,
And in the imprint of that flower's feet
Left novel tints and subtle signs of snows;
Now in my heart a double blossom blows,
And all my soul is ravished by the heat
Of summer twice inflamed, and seems to beat
Responsive as the ascending season grows.
For first the rose with crimson scent delayed
The full outpouring of the lily's breath,
And faint her presence was and pale as death,
And timidly she lingered in the shade;
But now I kiss with valour every braid,
And yearn ecstatic o'er each word she saith.
The full outpouring of the lily's breath,
And faint her presence was and pale as death,
And timidly she lingered in the shade;
But now I kiss with valour every braid,
And yearn ecstatic o'er each word she saith.
39
THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS.
Two flowers struggled hard within my soul,
The spirits of a lily and a rose—
And first on high the crimson odour grows,
And next a snow-white vapour seems to roll
The gates of sound asunder, and control
My heart till song's liquescence overflows;
So each sweet flower alternate rules and blows,
Each in a variously fragrant stole.
The spirits of a lily and a rose—
And first on high the crimson odour grows,
And next a snow-white vapour seems to roll
The gates of sound asunder, and control
My heart till song's liquescence overflows;
So each sweet flower alternate rules and blows,
Each in a variously fragrant stole.
But lo! one morning when I woke I saw
Myself adorned in smooth delicious white—
And, wondering at the unaccustomed sight
Of such a body made devoid of flaw,
Perceived myself with deep unuttered awe
Clothed in the lily's plumes from left to right.
Myself adorned in smooth delicious white—
And, wondering at the unaccustomed sight
Of such a body made devoid of flaw,
Perceived myself with deep unuttered awe
Clothed in the lily's plumes from left to right.
40
CRIMSON AND MANY FLOWERS.
“I loved another blossom,” so I said—“And she was somewhat fairer, sweet, than you;”
The maiden answered not, but closer drew
The tender-shielding bounty of her head,
And in that moment lo! one love was dead
And golden wings proclaimed a goddess new,
And as her pinions fluttered into view
The sun was risen turbulent and red—
The vehement approach of a new day
That shall surpass the former, and outshine
With a supreme unparalleled display
Those weeping misty seasons that were mine,
And round about my rugged brows shall twine
Crimson and many flowers for thorns and grey.
41
A WOMAN'S BLOOM.
“My heart hath suffered, sweet one:” But she brought
The nearer that down-bending, gracious head,
And, though no word articulate was said,
That tender token hath a marvel wrought,
A miracle of healing beyond thought—
For on a lonely grave a rose was red
That moment, and a crimson heart that bled
Was stanched and white, and ceased to suffer aught:—
The nearer that down-bending, gracious head,
And, though no word articulate was said,
That tender token hath a marvel wrought,
A miracle of healing beyond thought—
For on a lonely grave a rose was red
That moment, and a crimson heart that bled
Was stanched and white, and ceased to suffer aught:—
And over me there flowed a wealth of hair,
And that strange endless unforeseen perfume
Was subtle and abundant in the air—
The fire that scorches but doth not consume,
The sweet outpouring of a woman's bloom,
Unutterably wonderful and fair.
And that strange endless unforeseen perfume
Was subtle and abundant in the air—
The fire that scorches but doth not consume,
The sweet outpouring of a woman's bloom,
Unutterably wonderful and fair.
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