 | Poems (1867) |  |
159
FOUR SONGS.
TO L. A. C.
Oh, hast thou won my heart, my love!What gain to thee? what gain?
It plights thee with no golden ring,
It decks thee with no chain;
A simple thing, yet it will bring
To thee, my love, no pain;
To give thee rest, to make thee blest
It hath been ever fain, my love,
It hath been ever fain!
160
What gain to me! what gain!
What brooding calm, what soothing balm,
What sweet release from pain!
Through sudden rest my spirit guessed
What hour to me it came,
And day by day I mark its stay
Through comfort of the same, my love,
Through comfort of the same!
161
TO MARIA IVANOVNA.
If dark be she I love, or fair,
I ask not now; I do not seek
With her the lily to compare,
To find the rose upon her cheek.
Such flowers as these grow everywhere;
With all things soft, and dusk, and rare
I liken her; the woodbine feels
And finds her way with touches light;
She keeps her hold with tendrils slight.
How close, how kind the woodbine steals!
The summer air is warm with bliss
All stolen from the woodbine's kiss.
I ask not now; I do not seek
With her the lily to compare,
To find the rose upon her cheek.
Such flowers as these grow everywhere;
With all things soft, and dusk, and rare
I liken her; the woodbine feels
And finds her way with touches light;
She keeps her hold with tendrils slight.
How close, how kind the woodbine steals!
The summer air is warm with bliss
All stolen from the woodbine's kiss.
Sit thou by me when eve has stilled
And soothed the day's quick pulse to rest;
Let none be near us while we build
Within each other's hearts a nest,
Of joys that fade, of youth that flies,
Of love that stays, of memories
That pass not with the passing day:
Sit thou by me; be sad, be gay,
So sweet thy smiles, so sweet thy sighs,
So soft thy clasp, so kind thine eyes.
Be what thou wilt, 'tis ever best;
Be what thou art, and I am blest!
And soothed the day's quick pulse to rest;
162
Within each other's hearts a nest,
Of joys that fade, of youth that flies,
Of love that stays, of memories
That pass not with the passing day:
Sit thou by me; be sad, be gay,
So sweet thy smiles, so sweet thy sighs,
So soft thy clasp, so kind thine eyes.
Be what thou wilt, 'tis ever best;
Be what thou art, and I am blest!
163
IF IT BE PLEASANT TO REMEMBER THEE.
If it be pleasant to remember thee,
What is it, then, what is it to forget thee?
But for a space, one moment's space to be
As though I ne'er had loved, or known, or met thee?
My soaring soul on some high quest to send,
On some stern task to bind my strength's endeavour,
Then, like the bird, with rapid wing descend
Upon the nest that is my own for ever.
What is it, then, what is it to forget thee?
But for a space, one moment's space to be
As though I ne'er had loved, or known, or met thee?
My soaring soul on some high quest to send,
On some stern task to bind my strength's endeavour,
Then, like the bird, with rapid wing descend
Upon the nest that is my own for ever.
By some sweet song, by some dear dream to be
Upon my lonely way entranced, o'ertaken;
Awhile, awhile to cease to think of thee,
Then in the sweetness of thy soul to waken!
Sweet dream, with day pass not away,
As once in hours when all my joys were fleeter;
Dear haunting lay, I bid thee stay,
And in my heart for evermore grow sweeter.
Upon my lonely way entranced, o'ertaken;
Awhile, awhile to cease to think of thee,
Then in the sweetness of thy soul to waken!
164
As once in hours when all my joys were fleeter;
Dear haunting lay, I bid thee stay,
And in my heart for evermore grow sweeter.
If still to bear thee in my mind be sweet,
What is it then, what is it then to lose thee?
In play with life to let the moments cheat
My steadfast heart that flies again to choose thee?
Afar, I see thee lift thy soul in prayer,
I see thee in thy quiet ways abiding;
Oh, sweet to me hath grown the common air,
To me, for whom the Rose of life is hiding!
What is it then, what is it then to lose thee?
In play with life to let the moments cheat
My steadfast heart that flies again to choose thee?
Afar, I see thee lift thy soul in prayer,
I see thee in thy quiet ways abiding;
Oh, sweet to me hath grown the common air,
To me, for whom the Rose of life is hiding!
165
I SPAN BESIDE OUR CABIN DOOR.
I span beside our cabin door,
I watched him slowly cross the moor,
I smiled as I will smile no more,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
I watched him slowly cross the moor,
I smiled as I will smile no more,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
How many an evening as I sat,
With father he would come to chat,
He came for this, he came for that,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
With father he would come to chat,
He came for this, he came for that,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
I watched him o'er the moor so wide,
He took the path that turned aside
I went within the house and cried,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
He took the path that turned aside
I went within the house and cried,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
166
I saw him pass our cabin door;
The world is wide, he came no more;
I wept as I will weep no more,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
The world is wide, he came no more;
I wept as I will weep no more,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
I drew my wheel beside the fire,
I span as if I span for hire,
My father talked, and did not tire,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
I span as if I span for hire,
My father talked, and did not tire,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
My heart is weary and my head,
And all is done, and all is said,
And yet it is not time for bed,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
And all is done, and all is said,
And yet it is not time for bed,
Eskadil, mavourneen slawn!
| Poems (1867) | |