 | Madrigals, songs and sonnets |  |
34
IANTHE.
“I enter thy garden, my lover, my spouse,
I breathe the faint odour of pale daffodils,
I have gathered a leaf from the heart of the rose.
Art thou there, O my darling, my light of the house,
The house that is dark in the cup of the hills?
Look out to me now ere the river-breeze blows!”
I breathe the faint odour of pale daffodils,
I have gathered a leaf from the heart of the rose.
Art thou there, O my darling, my light of the house,
The house that is dark in the cup of the hills?
Look out to me now ere the river-breeze blows!”
Her window is open to let the cool air
Fan refreshingly brows that the noon-day made tir'd;
She sleeps! in the silence I fancy I hear
Her low-breathed whispers the calm night-winds bear;
And I see o'er the lintel her white arm attir'd
In the withering curl'd tendrils of vine-leaves grown sere.
Fan refreshingly brows that the noon-day made tir'd;
She sleeps! in the silence I fancy I hear
Her low-breathed whispers the calm night-winds bear;
And I see o'er the lintel her white arm attir'd
In the withering curl'd tendrils of vine-leaves grown sere.
35
Still she sleeps! “O beloved, I knock at the door
Of thy heart with emotion: O rise, let me in!
Let the dreams with swift wings from thy slumber fly far!”
And I trill a low harmony never before
Sung by aught but one bird in this desert of sin,—
By the nightingale taught by the soul of a star.
Of thy heart with emotion: O rise, let me in!
Let the dreams with swift wings from thy slumber fly far!”
And I trill a low harmony never before
Sung by aught but one bird in this desert of sin,—
By the nightingale taught by the soul of a star.
As I cease she awakens; I hear in the calm
That small golden head on the white pillow turn;
A short sigh—and a pause, while her heart made aware
Of my presence throbs silently;—then in the balm
Of her chamber full motion, and while my eyes burn
To receive such a glory, she smiles on me there.
That small golden head on the white pillow turn;
A short sigh—and a pause, while her heart made aware
Of my presence throbs silently;—then in the balm
Of her chamber full motion, and while my eyes burn
To receive such a glory, she smiles on me there.
But I stay in the dusk of the cedar awhile,
Till she leans out inquiringly into the night;
I linger to drink the full beauty of her,
Who, as now she looks lovingly down with a smile,
Is more fair than the dawn, and more dear than the light,
Whose hair drops with spikenard, her fingers with myrrh.
Till she leans out inquiringly into the night;
I linger to drink the full beauty of her,
Who, as now she looks lovingly down with a smile,
Is more fair than the dawn, and more dear than the light,
Whose hair drops with spikenard, her fingers with myrrh.
36
Then I pass from the shadow, made bold by my love,
And hold her sweet lips to my mouth in a kiss;
And there in the garden, in silent delight,
Breast to breast we hang speechless; nor mark where above
The vigilant stars are aware of all this,
Yet are gracious, and mar not the bliss of that night.
And hold her sweet lips to my mouth in a kiss;
And there in the garden, in silent delight,
Breast to breast we hang speechless; nor mark where above
The vigilant stars are aware of all this,
Yet are gracious, and mar not the bliss of that night.
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