 | Love-Songs |  |
I.
When you were with me, sweet, I could not lead
Your presence through the corridors of rhyme:
But you are smitten by the snows of time,
And by swift disappointment's sword I bleed,
And, having chosen an unselfish creed,
In every flowery avenue of mind
A gracious footprint of my love's I find,
And sonnets spring by thousands out of seed!
Your presence through the corridors of rhyme:
But you are smitten by the snows of time,
And by swift disappointment's sword I bleed,
And, having chosen an unselfish creed,
In every flowery avenue of mind
A gracious footprint of my love's I find,
And sonnets spring by thousands out of seed!
Before I lost you, I was silent,—now
That I have given you into other hands,
The gardens of my brain are tuneful lands,
And linnets twitter round about my brow,
And nightingales are loud on every bough,
And thrushes chant your praise in laughing bands.
That I have given you into other hands,
The gardens of my brain are tuneful lands,
And linnets twitter round about my brow,
And nightingales are loud on every bough,
And thrushes chant your praise in laughing bands.
| Love-Songs | |