 | Under Green Leaves |  |
50
THE BRIONY WREATH.
I
I twined around my true love's brow,Amid her dark brown hair,
A wreath of Briony from the hedge,
With rings and berries fair;
And call'd her “Lady Briony,”
And darling of the air.
II
We walk'd like children, hand in hand,Or on the meadow-stile
Sat down, not seeking happiness,
But finding it the while
In Love's unconscious atmosphere,
Or sunlight of a smile.
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III
“Sweet Lady of my heart,” I said,“Thou chid'st me in the morn,
For talking of the ‘worthless weeds’
With unconsider'd scorn;
But now, for bonnie Brieny's sake,
The chiding shall be borne.
IV
“So pleasant are its tendril-rings,That twist and curl and twine;
So graceful are its leaves and fruit
Amid those locks of thine;
Henceforth to me shall Briony
Be equal of the Vine.”
V
“But not for sake of me!” she said;“I'd have thee just and true,
52
Sweet babes of sun and dew,
As virtuous as the Rose herself,
Or Violet blushing blue.
VI
“Of all the weeds, and bounteous buds,That drink the summer shower,
And lift their blossoms through the corn,
Or smile in hedge and bower,
I plead the cause;—come hear the tale
And love them from this hour.
VII
“You've call'd me Lady Briony;Behold my sisters bright,
My fair companions of the wood,
Who love the morning light,—
Valerian, Saffron, Camomile,
And Rue, and Aconite;—
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VIII
“The golden Mallow of the Marsh,The Hemlock, broad and rank,
The Nightshade, Foxglove, Meadow-sweet,
And Tansy on the bank,
And Poppy with her sleepful eyes,
And Water-Iris dank.
IX
“Are we not fair? Despise us not!—We soothe the couch of pain;
We bring divine forgetfulness
To calm the stormy brain;
And through the languid pulse of life
Drop healing, like the rain.
X
“There's not a weed, however small,That peeps where rivers flow,
54
Has privilege to grow,
But has some goodness in its breast,
Or bounty to bestow.
XI
“And if we poison;—yours the fault!Behold our green leaves wave,
And seem to sigh as men go past
Wayfarers to the grave;—
‘Use us unwisely, we may kill,—
Use wisely, and we save.’
XII
“Our virtues and our lovelinessAre none the less our own,
Because you fail to seek them out,
Or miss them when they're shown;
And if we're common, so is light,
And every blessing known.”
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XIII
“Well pleaded, Lady Briony!Thou'rt good as thou art fair;
And were there no one in the copse,
I'd kiss thy lips, I swear!”
Her laugh rang merry as a bell—
“Well, kiss me, if you dare!”
| Under Green Leaves | |