 | Shifting Scenes and Other Poems |  |
117
HERE AND THERE.
Oh! the July winds were blowing,
And the Avon, full and flowing,
Washed the oak-roots, warm, and growing
Thick and bent;
Oh! the July winds were blowing
Warmly blowing,
When he went!
And I flung my arms around him,
And he blest me;
And I flung my trembling arms around him,
And he blest me;
And I begged him in the strife
To beware of his rich life,
And he murmured out, “Sweet wife!”
And blest me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
And the Avon, full and flowing,
Washed the oak-roots, warm, and growing
Thick and bent;
Oh! the July winds were blowing
Warmly blowing,
When he went!
And I flung my arms around him,
And he blest me;
And I flung my trembling arms around him,
And he blest me;
And I begged him in the strife
To beware of his rich life,
And he murmured out, “Sweet wife!”
And blest me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
Oh! the blithesome larks were singing,
Full throats were richly flinging
Their hearts down dim woods ringing
All unspent;
Oh, the blithesome larks were singing,
Sweetly singing,
When he went!
And I shook my hair about him,
And he kissed me;
And I wildly shook my hair about him,
And he kissed me;
And I told him if he died
I should creep unto his side,
And he murmured out, “Sweet bride!”
And kissed me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain,—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
Full throats were richly flinging
118
All unspent;
Oh, the blithesome larks were singing,
Sweetly singing,
When he went!
And I shook my hair about him,
And he kissed me;
And I wildly shook my hair about him,
And he kissed me;
And I told him if he died
I should creep unto his side,
And he murmured out, “Sweet bride!”
And kissed me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain,—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
Oh! the humble bees were booming
Where the wild-briar's pearls were looming
In a dusk of branches blooming
Dew besprent;
Oh! the humble-bees were booming,
Sweetly booming
When he went!
And I pressed him to my bosom,
And he blest me;
And I madly pressed him to my bosom,
And he blest me;
And I said, if from that shore
He should come to me no more,
When the cruel war was o'er?
And he blest me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
Where the wild-briar's pearls were looming
In a dusk of branches blooming
Dew besprent;
Oh! the humble-bees were booming,
Sweetly booming
When he went!
And I pressed him to my bosom,
And he blest me;
And I madly pressed him to my bosom,
And he blest me;
119
He should come to me no more,
When the cruel war was o'er?
And he blest me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
Oh! the setting sun was beaming,
And a gorgeous glow was streaming
Over copse and meadow, gleaming
Glory blent;
Oh! the setting sun was beaming,
Brightly beaming
When he went!
And I fondly hovered o'er him,
And he kissed me;
And I fondly, fondly hovered o'er him,
And he kissed me;
And I said, if in that fight
He should vanish from my sight,
Like a meteor in the night?
And he kissed me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
And a gorgeous glow was streaming
Over copse and meadow, gleaming
Glory blent;
Oh! the setting sun was beaming,
Brightly beaming
When he went!
And I fondly hovered o'er him,
And he kissed me;
And I fondly, fondly hovered o'er him,
And he kissed me;
And I said, if in that fight
He should vanish from my sight,
Like a meteor in the night?
And he kissed me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
120
Oh! the eve to night was turning,
And the early stars were yearning
Through a mist of odours, burning,
Glory blent;
Oh! the eve to night was turning,
Gently turning,
When he went!
And with shut eyes clung I to him,
And he left me!
And with tearful shut eyes clung I to him,
And he left me!
And with passionate arms I prest him,
And with shuddering spasms I blest him,
And in frenzied haste caressed him,
And he left me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
And the early stars were yearning
Through a mist of odours, burning,
Glory blent;
Oh! the eve to night was turning,
Gently turning,
When he went!
And with shut eyes clung I to him,
And he left me!
And with tearful shut eyes clung I to him,
And he left me!
And with passionate arms I prest him,
And with shuddering spasms I blest him,
And in frenzied haste caressed him,
And he left me!
(But oh! for the cold, cold rain—
The rain, and the winds that blow;
The cold, cold rain, and the colder wind—
The wind, and the rain, and the snow!)
| Shifting Scenes and Other Poems | |