 | Poems and Translations |  |
1
LATER POEMS.
BY THE RIVER.
Love! of delight the bringer and giver:
Under the boughs began my lay,
Sitting with Her beside the river;
Laughing the glad waves went their way.
Under the boughs began my lay,
Sitting with Her beside the river;
Laughing the glad waves went their way.
She whose beauty bewitch'd the Singer
(Under the green leaves lovers may)
Whisper'd—“I am the joy-gift bringer!”
Laughing the glad waves went their way.
(Under the green leaves lovers may)
Whisper'd—“I am the joy-gift bringer!”
Laughing the glad waves went their way.
Love, of delight the bringer and giver!—
Under the leaves, in the evening grey,
Nothing I hear but the laughing river
—Mocking my sorrow's roundelay.
Under the leaves, in the evening grey,
Nothing I hear but the laughing river
—Mocking my sorrow's roundelay.
4
YOUNG LOVE.
So young were we that when we kiss'd
We had no other thought:
The joy that first love brought
Nought farther miss'd.
To watch the dawning of a maiden smile
Was worth one's while.
We had no other thought:
The joy that first love brought
Nought farther miss'd.
To watch the dawning of a maiden smile
Was worth one's while.
In those young days, what though we kiss'd,
We kiss'd without a thought:
That tender of love sought
Did hope assist,
'Twas but as hope helps in a morning dream,
When things scarce seem.
We kiss'd without a thought:
That tender of love sought
Did hope assist,
'Twas but as hope helps in a morning dream,
When things scarce seem.
But now, O Love! whene'er we kiss
(Be dumb, my thought!)
The joy by her kiss brought
Yet more doth miss.
O Love! thou wast sufficient in young days
For innocent praise.
(Be dumb, my thought!)
The joy by her kiss brought
Yet more doth miss.
O Love! thou wast sufficient in young days
For innocent praise.
5
O Love—Desire! renew the kiss
That had no farther thought;
Or lead to the Besought
Whom now we miss:
Thee, Hymen,—Love no more enough for us
Grown curious.
That had no farther thought;
Or lead to the Besought
Whom now we miss:
Thee, Hymen,—Love no more enough for us
Grown curious.
6
TWO.
Two there were in the meadow lying,
Under the shade of the blossoming trees;
Kiss to kiss gave close replying:
Nought else heard but the honey-bees.
Under the shade of the blossoming trees;
Kiss to kiss gave close replying:
Nought else heard but the honey-bees.
Two were sitting in Sorrow's shadow;
Dead in the cradle their love's fruit lay:
Did they think of the sunny meadow
And the honey of yesterday?
Dead in the cradle their love's fruit lay:
Did they think of the sunny meadow
And the honey of yesterday?
Two are there in the grave-yard lying
Under the roots of the blossoming trees;
Love with love, but no replying:
Nought is heard but the honey-bees.
Under the roots of the blossoming trees;
Love with love, but no replying:
Nought is heard but the honey-bees.
7
NO MARVEL.
—“Love ties a woman's mind
Looser than with ropes of hay.”
Looser than with ropes of hay.”
Since Love ties a woman's mind,
Though as loose as ropes of hay,
Prithee, Love! my Mistress bind,
Only for a day.
Though as loose as ropes of hay,
Prithee, Love! my Mistress bind,
Only for a day.
For a day and night, to lay
On her thought my faithful mind,
While the hay-rope, all one way,
Would remain entwined.
On her thought my faithful mind,
While the hay-rope, all one way,
Would remain entwined.
Dear! such sweetness do I find
Here upon the fresh-mown hay,
That I marvel not the Wind
Will not let it stay.
Here upon the fresh-mown hay,
That I marvel not the Wind
Will not let it stay.
8
FAREWELL, HOPE!
Farewell, Hope! I cry:
I'll not mope,—not I.
If in her refusal She
Will continue, let it be!
Other Hope I'll try.
I'll not mope,—not I.
If in her refusal She
Will continue, let it be!
Other Hope I'll try.
I'll not care,—not I:
So, Despair, good-bye!
Thou shalt never bankrupt me:
Love with One as fair as She
Yet may share a sigh.
So, Despair, good-bye!
Thou shalt never bankrupt me:
Love with One as fair as She
Yet may share a sigh.
Love Thee though I die,
Dearest Woe! and why?
Too long hast thou pinion'd me:
Other Love shall set me free,—
One I know, near by.
Dearest Woe! and why?
Too long hast thou pinion'd me:
Other Love shall set me free,—
One I know, near by.
9
LOVE AND YOUTH.
Two winged genii in the air
I greeted as they pass'd me by:
The one a bow and quiver bare,
The other shouted joyously.
Both I besought to stay their speed,
But never Love nor Youth had heed
Of my wild cry.
I greeted as they pass'd me by:
The one a bow and quiver bare,
The other shouted joyously.
Both I besought to stay their speed,
But never Love nor Youth had heed
Of my wild cry.
As swift and careless as the wind,
Youth fled, nor ever once look'd back;
A moment Love was left behind,
But follow'd soon his fellow's track.
Yet loitering at my heart he bent
His bow, then smiled with changed intent:
The string was slack.
Youth fled, nor ever once look'd back;
A moment Love was left behind,
But follow'd soon his fellow's track.
Yet loitering at my heart he bent
His bow, then smiled with changed intent:
The string was slack.
10
TOO LATE.
Yes! thou art fair, and I had loved
If we in earlier hours had met;
But ere tow'rd me thy beauty moved
The sun of Love's brief day had set.
If we in earlier hours had met;
But ere tow'rd me thy beauty moved
The sun of Love's brief day had set.
Though I may watch thy opening bloom,
And its rich promise gladly see,
'Twill not procrastinate my doom:
The ripen'd fruit is not for me.
And its rich promise gladly see,
'Twill not procrastinate my doom:
The ripen'd fruit is not for me.
Yet, had I shared thy course of years,
And young as Hope beheld thy charms,
The love that only now endears
Perchance had given thee to my arms.
And young as Hope beheld thy charms,
The love that only now endears
Perchance had given thee to my arms.
Vain, vain regret! Another day
Will kiss the buds of younger flowers,
But ne'er will evening turn away
From love untimelier than ours.
Will kiss the buds of younger flowers,
But ne'er will evening turn away
From love untimelier than ours.
11
THE LILY.
Fair slender Flower, and straight,
And though so dainty white,
Thy beauty may not mate
With Her's, my heart's Delight.
And though so dainty white,
Thy beauty may not mate
With Her's, my heart's Delight.
Though shapely slim and fair,
Yet in less fairness dight
You fairest lilies are
Than Her's, my heart's Delight.
Yet in less fairness dight
You fairest lilies are
Than Her's, my heart's Delight.
Thou but Her emblem art,
An image to the sight
Of purity, whose heart
Is Her's, my heart's Delight.
An image to the sight
Of purity, whose heart
Is Her's, my heart's Delight.
Alas! and thou must fade
And perish: such the plight
Of flower and flower-like maid,—
Even Her's, my heart's Delight.
And perish: such the plight
Of flower and flower-like maid,—
Even Her's, my heart's Delight.
12
THE RIDDLE.
Why do I my Mistress love?
Tell me why, if any knoweth,
That all Ladies else above
Unto Her my duty oweth.
I confess
Their loveliness:
What then doth my preference move?
Tell me why, if any knoweth,
That all Ladies else above
Unto Her my duty oweth.
I confess
Their loveliness:
What then doth my preference move?
Others are as good and wise,
Some are possibly profounder;
Even to my adoring eyes
Is no saintly halo round her.
I confess
Their worth: no less
Her beyond them all I prize.
Some are possibly profounder;
Even to my adoring eyes
Is no saintly halo round her.
I confess
Their worth: no less
Her beyond them all I prize.
Love, they say, is always blind:
Nay! I see her every failing.
Rather Love is as the wind,—
Comes and goes, and unavailing
'Tis to guess
His waywardness:
She is loveliest, to my mind.
Nay! I see her every failing.
Rather Love is as the wind,—
Comes and goes, and unavailing
'Tis to guess
His waywardness:
She is loveliest, to my mind.
13
RUSTIC.
Her cheeks—they are twin blush roses;
Her breath is the new-mown hay;
Right daintily curved her nose is,
Ivory carved, you'd say.
O rare!
Such is my Fair:
Why doth she say me nay?
Her breath is the new-mown hay;
Right daintily curved her nose is,
Ivory carved, you'd say.
O rare!
Such is my Fair:
Why doth she say me nay?
Her hair like silk o' the maize is,
The Wind hath a golden prize;
The Sun in his high noon blazes
Can not outshine her eyes.
Compare
Aught with my Fair!
Why doth she me despise?
The Wind hath a golden prize;
The Sun in his high noon blazes
Can not outshine her eyes.
Compare
Aught with my Fair!
Why doth she me despise?
O Venus! but make her willing,
Cupid! thy wit employ:
Were surely no prettier billing
Though Adon had not been coy.
O rare!
Ah me, my Fair!
When wilt thou be my Joy?
Cupid! thy wit employ:
Were surely no prettier billing
Though Adon had not been coy.
O rare!
Ah me, my Fair!
When wilt thou be my Joy?
14
AMARYLLIS.
Mourn, mourn for Amaryllis whom Desire
Masked as Love has stolen from our troop!
Lament for her, ye Virgins! who could stoop
To such base service, quitting Dian's quire.
Masked as Love has stolen from our troop!
Lament for her, ye Virgins! who could stoop
To such base service, quitting Dian's quire.
Lament for Amaryllis! Never more
Her voice shall lift the hymn in Dian's praise;
Her silent ghost, among Love's Castaways,
Wanders along the sad Lethean shore.
Her voice shall lift the hymn in Dian's praise;
Her silent ghost, among Love's Castaways,
Wanders along the sad Lethean shore.
Weep, weep for her! Would that our tears might blot
The record of her sorrow and her shame!
Love! who beguiled her sense abused thy name:
Forgive the blinded eyes that knew thee not!
The record of her sorrow and her shame!
Love! who beguiled her sense abused thy name:
Forgive the blinded eyes that knew thee not!
15
ADONIS.
In vain! in vain! I must refuse
The love so freely proffer'd me:
I may not love but where I choose,
Though Venus' self the wooer be.
The love so freely proffer'd me:
I may not love but where I choose,
Though Venus' self the wooer be.
Hadst thou but waited, who can tell
What happy gatherer might pass?
The fruit that of its own weight fell
Is left to wither on the grass.
What happy gatherer might pass?
The fruit that of its own weight fell
Is left to wither on the grass.
In vain thy love-ripe lips, thy arms
Twined round me to compel my stay:
Were but reserve among thy charms,
Perhaps I had not turn'd away.
Twined round me to compel my stay:
Were but reserve among thy charms,
Perhaps I had not turn'd away.
16
DIVINER LOVE.
Oson of Ocean-foam! in vain
Sad Hope thy restless wings would stay;
Or Pleasure with her flower-chain
Confine thee when thou wouldst away.
Woe worth their lives in thee who trust,
Child of Desire, whose name is Lust!
Sad Hope thy restless wings would stay;
Or Pleasure with her flower-chain
Confine thee when thou wouldst away.
Woe worth their lives in thee who trust,
Child of Desire, whose name is Lust!
But thou, O Love the heaven-born,
True offspring of the elder God!
Thou hold'st this counterfeit in scorn,
And blessest those who kiss thy rod.
Thy worship yields a joy more deep
Than e'er had Adon lull'd to sleep.
True offspring of the elder God!
Thou hold'st this counterfeit in scorn,
And blessest those who kiss thy rod.
Thy worship yields a joy more deep
Than e'er had Adon lull'd to sleep.
Thine is the temple, Power Divine!
To which I bring this constant heart,
An offering at my Lady's shrine,
Who in thy services hath part.
For her dear sake my gift prefer,
And gracious answer give through her!
To which I bring this constant heart,
An offering at my Lady's shrine,
Who in thy services hath part.
For her dear sake my gift prefer,
And gracious answer give through her!
17
UNDER THE LINDENS.
Underneath the lindens' shade
Where the bees sweet music made,
In the idle June time hot,
Dora with her Damon lay:
Haply he his love might say,—
'Sooth he would and he would not.
Where the bees sweet music made,
In the idle June time hot,
Dora with her Damon lay:
Haply he his love might say,—
'Sooth he would and he would not.
Well he loved, but was afraid:
As they lay beneath the shade
('Twas all innocent I wot)
Dora's head against him leant;
Nothing else the maiden meant
But she would if he would not.
As they lay beneath the shade
('Twas all innocent I wot)
Dora's head against him leant;
Nothing else the maiden meant
But she would if he would not.
Underneath the lindens' shade,
While the bees their music made,
Simple love its measure got;
Fond looks, honey'd kisses—Well,
Something more might be to tell—
If I would,—but I would not.
While the bees their music made,
Simple love its measure got;
Fond looks, honey'd kisses—Well,
Something more might be to tell—
If I would,—but I would not.
18
ADMIRING LOVE.
Like her, the maiden who for years
Fed on the scent of flowers fine,
Such is my love, which now appears
To live but on its thoughts of thine:
That sweetness of love-bloom is all
My food, my hunger's festival.
Fed on the scent of flowers fine,
Such is my love, which now appears
To live but on its thoughts of thine:
That sweetness of love-bloom is all
My food, my hunger's festival.
The grace that halos thee around,
Thy beauty's effluence that doth kiss
The garden's most removèd bound,
My fond condition can not miss,—
Who hourly hover round the bloom,
Contenting me with its perfume.
Thy beauty's effluence that doth kiss
The garden's most removèd bound,
My fond condition can not miss,—
Who hourly hover round the bloom,
Contenting me with its perfume.
So modest-humble my delight,
Not daring to approach too near,
But having thee in constant sight
And living in thy atmosphere:
No miracle, I may confess,—
So fragrant is thy loveliness.
Not daring to approach too near,
But having thee in constant sight
And living in thy atmosphere:
No miracle, I may confess,—
So fragrant is thy loveliness.
19
LOVE JEALOUS.
Time was methought 'twould be enough for love
To live by Her, to worship and admire:
Poor silly moth! that all too soon must prove
The kindling of Love's ire,
And play with fire,
And drawing nearer, nearer, so be burn'd,—
Unknowing that I yearn'd.
To live by Her, to worship and admire:
Poor silly moth! that all too soon must prove
The kindling of Love's ire,
And play with fire,
And drawing nearer, nearer, so be burn'd,—
Unknowing that I yearn'd.
I look'd as One might on a painting look,
Or on a statue fair but marble-cold;
I sought not, I admired: Love may not brook
A love needs not be told.
Now would I fold
The picture, the warm statue, to my heart:
Now hath Desire his part.
Or on a statue fair but marble-cold;
I sought not, I admired: Love may not brook
A love needs not be told.
Now would I fold
The picture, the warm statue, to my heart:
Now hath Desire his part.
Once seem'd it much but listening to Her,
Hearing her voice, whose music was so clear
It was all pleasure; now I feel the stir
Of pain while She is near,
Lest others hear.
She must be mine, all mine, my very own:
So Love at last is known.
Hearing her voice, whose music was so clear
It was all pleasure; now I feel the stir
Of pain while She is near,
Lest others hear.
She must be mine, all mine, my very own:
So Love at last is known.
20
WHOM I MEAN.
Iname her not: but whoso see
A fair and gracious dignity
That, gentle born, is careful still
For blossoming of gentler will
(The flower she weareth on her breast),
Know well to whom my hope's address'd.
I need not name her, Beauty's Queen,
Since well ye wot whom I do mean.
A fair and gracious dignity
That, gentle born, is careful still
For blossoming of gentler will
(The flower she weareth on her breast),
Know well to whom my hope's address'd.
I need not name her, Beauty's Queen,
Since well ye wot whom I do mean.
I need not name her: whoso knows
The fairest flower on earth that grows
Hath seen her and my riddle known.
Pure love her beauty doth enzone,
And holdeth in her wavy hair
One pearl of constancy most rare.
I do not name my heart's fair Queen,
Since well ye wot whom I do mean.
The fairest flower on earth that grows
Hath seen her and my riddle known.
Pure love her beauty doth enzone,
And holdeth in her wavy hair
One pearl of constancy most rare.
I do not name my heart's fair Queen,
Since well ye wot whom I do mean.
I name her not. None other name
But Loveliest my lips may frame.
O hopeful lips! when may you meet
In worship at love's service sweet?
Sweet Heart, that registers my vows,
Such thought of grace my suit allows:
Yet name I not love's Fairest Queen,
Since well ye wot whom I do mean.
But Loveliest my lips may frame.
21
In worship at love's service sweet?
Sweet Heart, that registers my vows,
Such thought of grace my suit allows:
Yet name I not love's Fairest Queen,
Since well ye wot whom I do mean.
22
A DREAM.
I dream'd (ah me! but life is dream-like all!)
I lay in a garden fair,
Sweet-shaded there
By a young peach-tree; and the tree let fall
Its blossoms of rich scent
On me,—for what that meant.
I lay in a garden fair,
Sweet-shaded there
By a young peach-tree; and the tree let fall
Its blossoms of rich scent
On me,—for what that meant.
Then question'd I my thought to find what sense
My dream interpreted;
The answer said
“The bloom o' the peach betokens preference.”
O heart! if it be true
My Lady cares for you.
My dream interpreted;
The answer said
“The bloom o' the peach betokens preference.”
O heart! if it be true
My Lady cares for you.
23
FLOWER-COURTSHIP.
I brought my Love a posy well composed
To speak for me in words she could not doubt:
Sweet basil, box, and broom,
And cedar, and the bloom
Of red chrysanthemum;
And in my left hand, as of choice kept out,
A marigold, half closed.
To speak for me in words she could not doubt:
Sweet basil, box, and broom,
And cedar, and the bloom
Of red chrysanthemum;
And in my left hand, as of choice kept out,
A marigold, half closed.
My posy well accepted then by her,
The marigold she took and smiling threw
Where the tall ox-eyes stand;
Then from her bosom's band
Unloosed with lingering hand
A single aster,—but with impulse new
Pluck'd for me lavender.
The marigold she took and smiling threw
Where the tall ox-eyes stand;
Then from her bosom's band
Unloosed with lingering hand
A single aster,—but with impulse new
Pluck'd for me lavender.
Sweet Basil, Good wishes.—Box, Constancy.—Broom, Humility.—Cedar, I live for thee.—Chrysanthemum, I love thee.—Marigold, Cruelty.—Ox-eye, Be patient.—Aster, I'll think of it.
“Owning her love, she sent him lavender.”24
LOVE ONCE.
Love once is nought but love alway:
They never loved whose hearts can say
Love was: for true love can not change;
'Tis only fancy loves to range.
So reasoning, this content I drew:
—Belinda might not be untrue.
They never loved whose hearts can say
Love was: for true love can not change;
'Tis only fancy loves to range.
So reasoning, this content I drew:
—Belinda might not be untrue.
She told me, perhaps thought, she loved:
But love so easily removed
Is fickleness, mere Venus froth,—
Just now I like and now I loathe.
Such shimmer of a shifting sea
Was all Belinda's “love” for me.
But love so easily removed
Is fickleness, mere Venus froth,—
Just now I like and now I loathe.
Such shimmer of a shifting sea
Was all Belinda's “love” for me.
Belinda, like the passing wave,
May much embrace, but never gave
Herself. A shell on ocean foam
Were our Belinda's likeliest home.
So, reasoning thus, content I knew:
The Unloving to herself was true.
May much embrace, but never gave
Herself. A shell on ocean foam
Were our Belinda's likeliest home.
So, reasoning thus, content I knew:
The Unloving to herself was true.
25
ROSALIND.
On every tree the graven rind
Retains the name of Rosalind;
I carved mine with it on each tree;
'Tis she alone that loseth me.
Retains the name of Rosalind;
I carved mine with it on each tree;
'Tis she alone that loseth me.
I dug into the quarried stone
Her name, so should our love be known
To latest years: for my reward
I found her more than marble hard.
Her name, so should our love be known
To latest years: for my reward
I found her more than marble hard.
“My Rosalind” with idle hand
I traced upon the shifting sand,
To be by the next flood effaced:
Her ebb of love had greater haste.
I traced upon the shifting sand,
To be by the next flood effaced:
Her ebb of love had greater haste.
Than stone more hard is Rosalind,
And looser than the sand her mind:
Hard heart and will infirm I find;
Love's grave I dig for Rosalind.
And looser than the sand her mind:
Hard heart and will infirm I find;
Love's grave I dig for Rosalind.
26
OTHER SOME.
I'll not mourn though She refuse me,
I'll not deeply care;
Love shall never so abuse me:
There are more as fair.
Though I chose
Love's White Rose,
Lilies may compare.
I'll not deeply care;
Love shall never so abuse me:
There are more as fair.
Though I chose
Love's White Rose,
Lilies may compare.
Shall I pine if She deceive me?
Die of my despair?
Let her, if so please her, leave me!
Truth indeed is rare;
Yet I'll find
To my mind
One whose faith is fair.
Die of my despair?
Let her, if so please her, leave me!
Truth indeed is rare;
Yet I'll find
To my mind
One whose faith is fair.
Be She coldly coy, or faithless,
I'll not too much care:
If her lying leave me scatheless,
Her neglect I'll share.
Is this wrong?
My love-song
Finds a burden there.
I'll not too much care:
If her lying leave me scatheless,
Her neglect I'll share.
Is this wrong?
My love-song
Finds a burden there.
27
WHY.
He pull'd the branch of hazel down,
And kiss'd me ere he let it go.
'Twas very sweet: I did not frown:
Why did my lover tremble so?
And kiss'd me ere he let it go.
'Twas very sweet: I did not frown:
Why did my lover tremble so?
Why was he silent as we went
Hand fast in hand, the dim wood through?
I knew he loved me, knew he meant
Love's question. I was silent too.
Hand fast in hand, the dim wood through?
I knew he loved me, knew he meant
Love's question. I was silent too.
I've not had time to ask him yet.
'Twas but a moment that my heart
Beat against his, just now: we met
At mother's gate, to kiss, and part.
'Twas but a moment that my heart
Beat against his, just now: we met
At mother's gate, to kiss, and part.
28
LOVE AFRAID.
I dared not lead my arm around
Her dainty waist;
I dared not seek her lips, that mine
Hunger'd to taste:
I dared not, for such awe I found,
O Love divine!
Her dainty waist;
I dared not seek her lips, that mine
Hunger'd to taste:
I dared not, for such awe I found,
O Love divine!
I trembled as my eager hand
Her light touch graced;
And when her fond look answer'd mine
I dared not haste,
But waited, holding my demand
For farther sign.
Her light touch graced;
And when her fond look answer'd mine
I dared not haste,
But waited, holding my demand
For farther sign.
Sweet mouth, that with so sweet a sound
My dread hath chased,
And to my lips the holy wine,
Love's vintage, placed!
Dear heart, that ever now will bound
Or rest with mine!
My dread hath chased,
And to my lips the holy wine,
Love's vintage, placed!
Dear heart, that ever now will bound
Or rest with mine!
29
WEEP NOT! SIGH NOT!
Weep not! Tears must vainly fall,
Though they fall like rain:
Sorrow's flood shall not recall
Love's dear life again.
Vain thy tears,
Vain thy sobs;
As vain heart-throbs
Of lonely years
Since thou Love hast slain.
Though they fall like rain:
Sorrow's flood shall not recall
Love's dear life again.
Vain thy tears,
Vain thy sobs;
As vain heart-throbs
Of lonely years
Since thou Love hast slain.
Sigh not! As a passed wind
Is but sought in vain,
Sighs, nor groans, may not unbind
Death's unbroken chain.
Sighs and tears
Nought avail;
Nor cheeks grown pale
In lonely years.
Love comes not again.
Is but sought in vain,
Sighs, nor groans, may not unbind
Death's unbroken chain.
Sighs and tears
Nought avail;
Nor cheeks grown pale
In lonely years.
Love comes not again.
30
ROSY WINE.
My Mistress' frowns are hard to bear,
And yet I will not quite despair;
Nor think, because her lips I leave,
There's nothing for me but to grieve.
—The goblet's lip awaiteth mine:
My grief I quench in rosy wine.
And yet I will not quite despair;
Nor think, because her lips I leave,
There's nothing for me but to grieve.
—The goblet's lip awaiteth mine:
My grief I quench in rosy wine.
Dame Fortune too has faithless gone:
But let her go! I will not moan.
Draw in your chair, old Friend! and see
What rating Fortune has from me.
Clink yet again your glass with mine,—
To Fortune's health, in rosy wine!
But let her go! I will not moan.
Draw in your chair, old Friend! and see
What rating Fortune has from me.
Clink yet again your glass with mine,—
To Fortune's health, in rosy wine!
Pass, Fortune! pass, thou fickle jade!
One fortunately constant maid
Smiles on me yet; though loves depart,
Her presence gladdeneth my heart.
Thy tendrils cling, O loving Vine!
My griefs I quench in rosy wine.
One fortunately constant maid
Smiles on me yet; though loves depart,
Her presence gladdeneth my heart.
Thy tendrils cling, O loving Vine!
My griefs I quench in rosy wine.
31
TO SORROW.
I loved sweet Sorrow in my early youth:
To-day we are but friends.
Companions then, and now she only lends
Her presence for a while,
Graced with a smile
Of more content than ruth.
To-day we are but friends.
Companions then, and now she only lends
Her presence for a while,
Graced with a smile
Of more content than ruth.
She loved me well in those confiding days;
Perhaps she loves me still.
'Tis I am traitor, careless to fulfil
The faith we pledged of old:
'Tis I am cold,
Who turn me from her gaze.
Perhaps she loves me still.
'Tis I am traitor, careless to fulfil
The faith we pledged of old:
'Tis I am cold,
Who turn me from her gaze.
Reproachful Sorrow! art thou yet as fond?
Ah me! my heart is dead.
In that grey dawn our loves so fairly sped,
Thou wooest now in vain:
And yet remain!
I will not look beyond.
Ah me! my heart is dead.
In that grey dawn our loves so fairly sped,
Thou wooest now in vain:
And yet remain!
I will not look beyond.
32
LOVE'S SERVICE.
Hast thou no pity, Love! for thy poor thralls?
No ruth for all the sorrow that befalls
Thy hapless servitors? Even so I pray'd
To Him, the lord of earth and sea and air;
And he my foolish prayer
Deign'd answer, and thus said:
No ruth for all the sorrow that befalls
Thy hapless servitors? Even so I pray'd
To Him, the lord of earth and sea and air;
And he my foolish prayer
Deign'd answer, and thus said:
“I have no pity. Whoso serve me ask
Nor wages nor reward; but of their task
Make their delight—the joy divine of pain,
Sometimes,—but none the less it is delight.
In their great grief's despite,
Sufficient is their gain.”
Nor wages nor reward; but of their task
Make their delight—the joy divine of pain,
Sometimes,—but none the less it is delight.
In their great grief's despite,
Sufficient is their gain.”
I am not worthy, Love! to claim a place
In thy close sanctuary; but of thy grace
Admit me to the outer courts, and so
In time that inner worship I may learn,
And on thy altar burn
The Sacrifice of Woe!
In thy close sanctuary; but of thy grace
Admit me to the outer courts, and so
In time that inner worship I may learn,
And on thy altar burn
The Sacrifice of Woe!
33
MADAM! NO!
Madam, no! and leave thy wiles:
Though I own thee fair,
I in truth mistrust the smiles
That any fool may share.
Though I own thee fair,
I in truth mistrust the smiles
That any fool may share.
I must quit, despite thy charms
(Truly they are rare),
But those all-embracing arms
Can not detain me there.
(Truly they are rare),
But those all-embracing arms
Can not detain me there.
Madam, no! my heart may yearn;
Love indeed could wait—
Cared I but to take my turn
With those who crowd thy gate.
Love indeed could wait—
Cared I but to take my turn
With those who crowd thy gate.
34
NO MORE.
No more! no more!—
O happy Youth, so fearless, frank, and fair!
Thou comest with the blossoms in thy hair
No more, no more.
O happy Youth, so fearless, frank, and fair!
Thou comest with the blossoms in thy hair
No more, no more.
No more, no more!—
O happier Love! one fairest fair blush-rose
Thy garden had, the Flower of Hope, that grows
No more, no more.
O happier Love! one fairest fair blush-rose
Thy garden had, the Flower of Hope, that grows
No more, no more.
No more, no more!—
Long-parted Joy! ah, whither hast thou flown?
Youth pass'd, Hope wither'd, and thy voice is known
No more, no more.
Long-parted Joy! ah, whither hast thou flown?
Youth pass'd, Hope wither'd, and thy voice is known
No more, no more.
35
SLEEPING ON LATMOS.
Awake, Endymion!
How art thou sleeping still?
What light step climbs the hill,
What brightness cometh on?
Awake, Endymion!
Wake,
For Phœbe's sake.
How art thou sleeping still?
What light step climbs the hill,
What brightness cometh on?
Awake, Endymion!
Wake,
For Phœbe's sake.
Awake, Endymion!—
What dream hath lit his smile?
Was it that very while
Her love around him shone?
Awake, Endymion!
Wake,
For Phœbe's sake.
What dream hath lit his smile?
Was it that very while
Her love around him shone?
Awake, Endymion!
Wake,
For Phœbe's sake.
Awake, Endymion!—
Wilt thou not wake for this?
And his still lips a kiss
Divine from fond lips won.
Now wake, Endymion!
Wake,
For Phœbe's sake.
Wilt thou not wake for this?
And his still lips a kiss
Divine from fond lips won.
Now wake, Endymion!
Wake,
For Phœbe's sake.
36
NOT FLATTERING.
O no! her eyes are not like stars,
Her hair's not threads of gold;
And for her voice, it rather jars
On me to hear her scold.
Her nose is good, say for a scent;
Her mouth, I own, is wide;
And heaven a knack of laughing lent
To show the teeth inside.
Her hair's not threads of gold;
And for her voice, it rather jars
On me to hear her scold.
Her nose is good, say for a scent;
Her mouth, I own, is wide;
And heaven a knack of laughing lent
To show the teeth inside.
Her smile is pleasant, I allow;
Her lips, well,—they are curved,
Enough for kissing-gear,—I vow
Her lover'd not be sterved.
Such as she is, this maid I love;
If she'll have me for man,
I'll prize her, fairer girls above,
As fairly as I can.
Her lips, well,—they are curved,
Enough for kissing-gear,—I vow
Her lover'd not be sterved.
Such as she is, this maid I love;
If she'll have me for man,
I'll prize her, fairer girls above,
As fairly as I can.
37
TO PANSIES.
“The pansy maidens heartsease call.”
Pure maiden thoughts, doubt not, ye are:
And yet sometimes we see
Your colour richer and bizarre
As Venus' pansies be.
And yet sometimes we see
Your colour richer and bizarre
As Venus' pansies be.
So be it! who would change the flower
Grown at its own sweet will?
Our only wish with every hour
To find the heartsease still.
Grown at its own sweet will?
Our only wish with every hour
To find the heartsease still.
38
CRIPPLED.
Trail thy broken pinion, Love!
Bind thine eyes with sorrow:
I, no more thy minion, Love!
Bid thee Good-morrow.
Bind thine eyes with sorrow:
I, no more thy minion, Love!
Bid thee Good-morrow.
Useless to dissemble, Love!
Never can we borrow
Past content: dost tremble? Love!
Bid thee Good-morrow.
Never can we borrow
Past content: dost tremble? Love!
Bid thee Good-morrow.
Limp away! forget me, Love!
I have wed with Sorrow.
My prayers do not let thee, Love!
Bid me Good-morrow!
I have wed with Sorrow.
My prayers do not let thee, Love!
Bid me Good-morrow!
39
MULIDOR.
Her eyes are brighter than a greedy dog's;
Her hair is yellow as a shock of grain;
Her suppley limbs are nimbler than a frog's
Leaping from out a pool and in again.
Heigho, dildido!
An I love her in vain?
Her hair is yellow as a shock of grain;
Her suppley limbs are nimbler than a frog's
Leaping from out a pool and in again.
Heigho, dildido!
An I love her in vain?
Her throat's round as a sack of wheaten flour,
Wherefrom issues rare music as she speaks;
Her bosom's soft and white as snowy shower;
Redder than roses are her ruddy cheeks.
Heigho, dildido!
Her have I loved for weeks.
Wherefrom issues rare music as she speaks;
Her bosom's soft and white as snowy shower;
Redder than roses are her ruddy cheeks.
Heigho, dildido!
Her have I loved for weeks.
She gambols gaily as a youngling sheep;
Or walks more stately than a swimming swan:
To tell of her perfections, all the heap,
'Od wot, the longest day it were not done.
Heigho, dildido!
I am so love-begone.
Or walks more stately than a swimming swan:
To tell of her perfections, all the heap,
'Od wot, the longest day it were not done.
Heigho, dildido!
I am so love-begone.
40
LONG AGO.
Did I love you? Well you know.
Did you love me? Who can say?
Yet may be you did one day
Long ago.
Did you love me? Who can say?
Yet may be you did one day
Long ago.
Do you love me? Answer No.
Yet I smile, nor will complain:
It was sad to love in vain
Long ago.
Yet I smile, nor will complain:
It was sad to love in vain
Long ago.
Do I love you? May be, though
Love is silent, seeks not gain:
I remember love was fain
Long ago.
Love is silent, seeks not gain:
I remember love was fain
Long ago.
41
FAINT HEART.
Faint heart wins not lady fair:
Victory smiles on those who dare.
There is but one way to woo:
Think thy Mistress willing too;
Leave her never chance to choose,
Hold her powerless to refuse!
Victory smiles on those who dare.
There is but one way to woo:
Think thy Mistress willing too;
Leave her never chance to choose,
Hold her powerless to refuse!
If she answer thee with No,
Wilt thou bow and let her go?
When, most like, her No is meant
But to make more sweet consent:
So thy suit may longer be,
For so much she liketh thee.
Wilt thou bow and let her go?
When, most like, her No is meant
But to make more sweet consent:
So thy suit may longer be,
For so much she liketh thee.
Never heed her pretty airs!
He's no lover who despairs;
He's no warrior whom a frown
Drives from his beleaguer'd town;
And no hunter he who stops
Till his stricken quarry drops.
He's no lover who despairs;
He's no warrior whom a frown
Drives from his beleaguer'd town;
And no hunter he who stops
Till his stricken quarry drops.
42
Aim as certain not to miss;
Take her as thou wouldst a kiss!
Or ask once, and if in vain,
Ask her twice, and thrice again:
Sure of this when all is said,—
They lose most who are afraid.
Take her as thou wouldst a kiss!
Or ask once, and if in vain,
Ask her twice, and thrice again:
Sure of this when all is said,—
They lose most who are afraid.
43
HAPPENING.
Last evening, carrying home my gift
Of fresh wild fruit in cool leaf laid,
I met the little neighbour maid;
And my ripe offering went adrift.
Of fresh wild fruit in cool leaf laid,
I met the little neighbour maid;
And my ripe offering went adrift.
I hear of others. So they take—
These fair young thieves, the dues of Eld.
How may such larcenies be quell'd?
Tell me, some Matron! for love's sake.
These fair young thieves, the dues of Eld.
How may such larcenies be quell'd?
Tell me, some Matron! for love's sake.
44
HOPE AND WISH.
Ay! if Love for wishing cared not,
Or content with hoping dared not,
Thou and I might love for ever:
But our hopeful wishes,—they
Must forbid our longer stay:
Therefore must we sever.
Or content with hoping dared not,
Thou and I might love for ever:
But our hopeful wishes,—they
Must forbid our longer stay:
Therefore must we sever.
Dearest! tell Hope to forsake thee;
Say to Wish—Thou shalt not take me,
Love and I are friends for ever:
Or tell Wish from thee to stray;
Hope forbid to watch and pray:
So we may not sever.
Say to Wish—Thou shalt not take me,
Love and I are friends for ever:
Or tell Wish from thee to stray;
Hope forbid to watch and pray:
So we may not sever.
So we never shall be parted;
So, although I broken-hearted
Die, despairing of endeavour,
My poor ghost with thee shall stay:
Love, were Hope and Wish away,
From thee could not sever.
So, although I broken-hearted
Die, despairing of endeavour,
My poor ghost with thee shall stay:
Love, were Hope and Wish away,
From thee could not sever.
45
FOR STRENGTH.
Break not, O heart!
Stern manhood bear the test!
Thou winnest not, but thou hast loved the Best.
So part!
Be strong, my heart!
Stern manhood bear the test!
Thou winnest not, but thou hast loved the Best.
So part!
Be strong, my heart!
Be strong, my heart!
And strain thy level eyes
Beyond this pain, lest Weakness thee surprise.
Depart!
Break not, my heart!
And strain thy level eyes
Beyond this pain, lest Weakness thee surprise.
Depart!
Break not, my heart!
46
FAIREST.
What the earth has of most fair,
Tell me!
—'Tis the Rose,
When her young buds first unclose
In the dew-sweet air.
Nay! not so:
For I know
One more fair than fairest Rose.
Tell me!
—'Tis the Rose,
When her young buds first unclose
In the dew-sweet air.
Nay! not so:
For I know
One more fair than fairest Rose.
What most pure as well as fair?
Tell me!
—'Tis the Sleet,
Treading swiftly with fine feet
The light floor of air.
Nay! not so:
For I know
One as pure as driven sleet.
Tell me!
—'Tis the Sleet,
Treading swiftly with fine feet
The light floor of air.
Nay! not so:
For I know
One as pure as driven sleet.
What has life of joy most rare?
Tell me!
—It must be
Love as glad as mine for Thee,
Lady pure and fair!
Nay! not so:
For I know
Greater joy, thy love for me.
Tell me!
47
Love as glad as mine for Thee,
Lady pure and fair!
Nay! not so:
For I know
Greater joy, thy love for me.
48
THE PRAYER TO DIANA.
Goddess of the silver bow!
Unto thee my days I vow:—
Guard me in thy sylvan shade
From all terrors for a maid;
From all wildness prowling round
Keep me, in thy virgin bound.
Unto thee my days I vow:—
Guard me in thy sylvan shade
From all terrors for a maid;
From all wildness prowling round
Keep me, in thy virgin bound.
Love,—I will not heed his shaft,
Maiden wit defies his craft;
Hymen,—better Dian's light
Than his flame, however bright:
Goddess! take me for thine own.
—She forgot Endymion.
Maiden wit defies his craft;
Hymen,—better Dian's light
Than his flame, however bright:
Goddess! take me for thine own.
—She forgot Endymion.
Even while the girl did pray,
Phœbe was upon her way
To the happy Latmos cave;
Yet to her votary she gave,
In despite of loving haste,
Answer holy, pure, and chaste.
Phœbe was upon her way
To the happy Latmos cave;
Yet to her votary she gave,
In despite of loving haste,
Answer holy, pure, and chaste.
49
Worship thou among my train,
Looking not for Love, nor fain
Hymen's flaring torch to invite
To my realm of calm delight!
Wait!—And farther had said on,
But stopp'd to kiss Endymion.
Looking not for Love, nor fain
Hymen's flaring torch to invite
To my realm of calm delight!
Wait!—And farther had said on,
But stopp'd to kiss Endymion.
50
UNDER A CHERRY TREE.
O cherry Tree! O Cherry Tree!
That Spring-time was so fair:
Thy boughs were a white heaven to me,
For He was there.
That Spring-time was so fair:
Thy boughs were a white heaven to me,
For He was there.
O Cherry Tree, glad Cherry Tree!
He said my red lips were
Richer than thy ripe fruit: ah me!
He kiss'd me there.
He said my red lips were
Richer than thy ripe fruit: ah me!
He kiss'd me there.
O cherry Tree, sad Cherry Tree!
Now are thy branches bare:
The leafless boughs repeat to me—
He is not there.
Now are thy branches bare:
The leafless boughs repeat to me—
He is not there.
51
CAMOMILE.
My Love is like the Camomile
(A Lover so complain'd),
That trampled groweth more the while
And flourisheth disdain'd.
The rose upon my Lady's breast
Will fade within an hour;
But that, down-trodden, sore oppress'd,
Outliveth scorn and stour.
(A Lover so complain'd),
That trampled groweth more the while
And flourisheth disdain'd.
The rose upon my Lady's breast
Will fade within an hour;
But that, down-trodden, sore oppress'd,
Outliveth scorn and stour.
So in my heart the bitter weed
Uplifteth its despair,
And bideth until wholesome heed
Shall move my Lady's care:
Content to kiss her trailing gown—
O love-fed Sorrow! smile;
For see, my Lady louteth down
To pluck the Camomile.
Uplifteth its despair,
And bideth until wholesome heed
Shall move my Lady's care:
Content to kiss her trailing gown—
O love-fed Sorrow! smile;
For see, my Lady louteth down
To pluck the Camomile.
52
HER RIVALS.
I grant that others have beguiled
My fancy, Love! from you:
But even as on them I smiled,
My heart was not untrue.
My fancy, Love! from you:
But even as on them I smiled,
My heart was not untrue.
I own one moment your eclipse
Behind that golden hair:
But while her kiss was on my lips
Your name was whisper'd there.
Behind that golden hair:
But while her kiss was on my lips
Your name was whisper'd there.
And she whose ready blush on cheek
Half met my love confess'd,
Heard me in fonder accents speak
Of One still loved the best.
Half met my love confess'd,
Heard me in fonder accents speak
Of One still loved the best.
German the first, the other French:
I loved them, Dear! before
I courted you. You jealous wench!
What, never see them more?
I loved them, Dear! before
I courted you. You jealous wench!
What, never see them more?
53
Nay! by the lovely golden-hair'd,
By her whose blush I own,
You'll pardon, their sweet names declared,
—Moselle and Rose-Bourgogne.
By her whose blush I own,
You'll pardon, their sweet names declared,
—Moselle and Rose-Bourgogne.
54
DIRGE.
Blooms o' the May, with dew impearl'd,
Sweet pale roses of the Spring,
Bring, and heap
For her pillow, where uncurl'd
Those soft tresses may be laid.
Gentlest Sorrow! lay the Maid
Down, to sleep.
Sweet pale roses of the Spring,
Bring, and heap
For her pillow, where uncurl'd
Those soft tresses may be laid.
Gentlest Sorrow! lay the Maid
Down, to sleep.
No harsh sound disturb her rest!
Silent—keep thy nest, O Lark!
Dark! awake
That fond plaint thou lovest best.
Tune thy requiem, Nightingale!
—Out, alas! can Song avail
For Her sake?
Silent—keep thy nest, O Lark!
Dark! awake
That fond plaint thou lovest best.
Tune thy requiem, Nightingale!
—Out, alas! can Song avail
For Her sake?
55
IN HER GRAVE.
Beauty in her grave is lying:
Love's last words are said,
Silent Sorrow still replying—
Still with tears unshed,
For the Lovely and the Lost.
O sad heart! thou dost
Too well know
Nor Love nor Woe
Hath gain of their vain crying.
Love's last words are said,
Silent Sorrow still replying—
Still with tears unshed,
For the Lovely and the Lost.
O sad heart! thou dost
Too well know
Nor Love nor Woe
Hath gain of their vain crying.
Beauty in her grave is sleeping,
Strown with fragrant bloom.
O, in vain, vain this upheaping
Dead sweets on a tomb!
Love and Sorrow! come away.
O sad Death! thy prey
Can not know
Or love or woe.
Let us go, yet weeping!
Strown with fragrant bloom.
O, in vain, vain this upheaping
Dead sweets on a tomb!
Love and Sorrow! come away.
O sad Death! thy prey
Can not know
Or love or woe.
Let us go, yet weeping!
56
TRICKSY.
It was a tricksy girl, I wot, albeit clad in grey:
She woo'd me, an I would or not, and stole my heart away.
This tricksy maid
This trick she play'd
One warm spring day.
She woo'd me, an I would or not, and stole my heart away.
This tricksy maid
This trick she play'd
One warm spring day.
So sad, so simple, so demure, 'twas nothing she might say,
But wimpled eyes which did secure the prize of all her play.
This tricksy maid:
Love-sick, I play'd
My heart away.
But wimpled eyes which did secure the prize of all her play.
This tricksy maid:
Love-sick, I play'd
My heart away.
57
SPRING AND AUTUMN.
“Thou wilt forget me.” “Love has no such word.”
The soft Spring wind is whispering to the trees.
Among lime-blossoms have the hovering bees
Those whispers heard?
The soft Spring wind is whispering to the trees.
Among lime-blossoms have the hovering bees
Those whispers heard?
“Or thou wilt change.” “Love changeth not:” he said.
The purple heather cloys the air with scent
Of honey. O'er the moors her lover went,
Nor turn'd his head.
The purple heather cloys the air with scent
Of honey. O'er the moors her lover went,
Nor turn'd his head.
58
THE LAW OF CHANGE.
They know not Love who love to range:
As who would sip from wine to wine
Loses all taste in his exchange,
And sups at length with Circe's swine.
As who would sip from wine to wine
Loses all taste in his exchange,
And sups at length with Circe's swine.
Love's self comprised the world at first;
But, grown monotonous, Desire
(With itch of restlessness accurst)
Began the outer world to admire.
But, grown monotonous, Desire
(With itch of restlessness accurst)
Began the outer world to admire.
Might I but Cleopatra know—
Whose varied charms no use could stale:
So, sounding love from high to low,
From low to high, complete the scale.
Whose varied charms no use could stale:
So, sounding love from high to low,
From low to high, complete the scale.
Yet, Helen! I would meet thy smiles,
And clasp Aspasia to my heart;
Then Sappho's frenzy, Lais' wiles,
Experience, proving every part.
And clasp Aspasia to my heart;
Then Sappho's frenzy, Lais' wiles,
Experience, proving every part.
59
Fool! Change itself content debars:
In seeking all thou hast not One.
Who shuts out light, to see the stars,
May see them, but has lost the sun.
In seeking all thou hast not One.
Who shuts out light, to see the stars,
May see them, but has lost the sun.
60
IF LOVE MIGHT LAST.
If Love might last for ever,
And Beauty keep her youth,
Fond hearts now forced to sever
Should 'scape remorse and ruth:
If Love might last for ever,
And Beauty keep her youth.
And Beauty keep her youth,
Fond hearts now forced to sever
Should 'scape remorse and ruth:
If Love might last for ever,
And Beauty keep her youth.
If Love's sole name were Pleasure,
And Beauty were not vain,
Content might mete its measure,
And tears be sweet as rain:
If Love knew only pleasure,
And Beauty were not vain.
And Beauty were not vain,
Content might mete its measure,
And tears be sweet as rain:
If Love knew only pleasure,
And Beauty were not vain.
If Beauty bloom'd for ever,
And Love were constant Truth,
Or Love well-dower'd Endeavour,
And Beauty queenly Youth,—
Love then would love for ever,
And Beauty wed with Truth.
And Love were constant Truth,
Or Love well-dower'd Endeavour,
And Beauty queenly Youth,—
Love then would love for ever,
And Beauty wed with Truth.
61
FIE, LOVE! FIE!
Unto Love my Lady said—
“Fie, Love! fie!
Counselling a young maid to wed:
Wed no man will I.”
Love! I pray thee—do not fail,
Since unless thou weight the scale
All my prayers may not prevail.
Ay, Love! ay.
“Fie, Love! fie!
Counselling a young maid to wed:
Wed no man will I.”
Love! I pray thee—do not fail,
Since unless thou weight the scale
All my prayers may not prevail.
Ay, Love! ay.
“Cease (she said) to speak his praise!
Fie, Love! fie!
What know maidens of men's ways?
Men for love will lie.”
Tell her, Love! some men are true;
And I, one among the Few,
Ask not more than is my due.
Ay, Love! ay.
Fie, Love! fie!
What know maidens of men's ways?
Men for love will lie.”
Tell her, Love! some men are true;
And I, one among the Few,
Ask not more than is my due.
Ay, Love! ay.
62
A PROVERB.
“A merry heart goes all the way,
Your sad heart tires in a mile-a!”
And well for the happy one to say,
Made glad by your smile a while, ha!
Your sad heart tires in a mile-a!”
And well for the happy one to say,
Made glad by your smile a while, ha!
If your smile may be for only a day,
Might it last for even a mile-a,
How happy could I be, would you say
“I will walk with you that mile”! Ah!
Might it last for even a mile-a,
How happy could I be, would you say
“I will walk with you that mile”! Ah!
O sad sad heart! for she turn'd away:
We had not travel'd a mile-a.
There's nothing for it but Welladay
And Alas for the loss of a smile! ha!
We had not travel'd a mile-a.
There's nothing for it but Welladay
And Alas for the loss of a smile! ha!
63
LOVE'S BLINDNESS.
They call her fair. I do not know:
I never thought to look.
Who heeds the binder's costliest show
When he may read the book?
I never thought to look.
Who heeds the binder's costliest show
When he may read the book?
What need a list of parts to me
When I possess the whole?
Who only watch her eyes to see
The colour of her soul.
When I possess the whole?
Who only watch her eyes to see
The colour of her soul.
I may not praise her mouth, her chin,
Her feet, her hands, her arms:
My love lacks leisure to begin
The schedule of her charms.
Her feet, her hands, her arms:
My love lacks leisure to begin
The schedule of her charms.
To praise is only to compare:
And therefore Love is blind.
I loved before I was aware
Her beauty was of kind.
And therefore Love is blind.
I loved before I was aware
Her beauty was of kind.
64
SEASONS.
Blue flowers twined in the golden hair,
Bright in the sun and the fresh Spring air,
Childhood's laugh with the promise there.
Bright in the sun and the fresh Spring air,
Childhood's laugh with the promise there.
Climbing the apple boughs among,
Shaking the fruit down,—with a song:
Youth! such pleasures to thee belong.
Shaking the fruit down,—with a song:
Youth! such pleasures to thee belong.
Rich are the colours on falling leaves,
Rich is the splendour of crimson eves
Or the gold of Autumn's gather'd sheaves.
Rich is the splendour of crimson eves
Or the gold of Autumn's gather'd sheaves.
Stooping over the written page,
White as the snow and wise as Age:—
Which is it — history or presage?
White as the snow and wise as Age:—
Which is it — history or presage?
65
THE DAISY.
Tell me, Daisy! as I pull
Thy petals in the sun,—
Does he love me? does he love me?
My Belovèd One!
Thy petals in the sun,—
Does he love me? does he love me?
My Belovèd One!
Answer, Daisy! as I touch
Thy petals; tell my lot!
Does he love me? Yes! he loves me.
No! he loves me not.
Thy petals; tell my lot!
Does he love me? Yes! he loves me.
No! he loves me not.
Daisy! Daisy! once again.
True petals,—Love has won.
Does he love me? Yes! he loves me,
My Belovèd One!
True petals,—Love has won.
Does he love me? Yes! he loves me,
My Belovèd One!
66
MY VALENTINE.
My Valentine! my Valentine!
Blue sky! (he said these eyes of mine
Were heaven-like) how art thou bright
And he not here, my heart's delight,
My Valentine?
Blue sky! (he said these eyes of mine
Were heaven-like) how art thou bright
And he not here, my heart's delight,
My Valentine?
My Valentine! my Valentine!
O foolish heart, so prompt to pine,
Knowing his love! But love is fear.
So sure to come, and yet not here,
My Valentine!
O foolish heart, so prompt to pine,
Knowing his love! But love is fear.
So sure to come, and yet not here,
My Valentine!
My Valentine! my Valentine!
He comes: can Morn so brightly shine?
Sweet lips—But eager love affords
No time, nor is there need of words,
My Valentine!
He comes: can Morn so brightly shine?
Sweet lips—But eager love affords
No time, nor is there need of words,
My Valentine!
67
BARE FEET.
O fair white feet! O dawn-white feet
Of Her my hope may claim!
Bare-footed through the dew she came,
Her Love to meet.
Of Her my hope may claim!
Bare-footed through the dew she came,
Her Love to meet.
Star-glancing feet, the windflowers sweet
Might envy, without shame,
As through the grass they lightly came,
Her Love to meet.
Might envy, without shame,
As through the grass they lightly came,
Her Love to meet.
O Maiden sweet, with flower-kiss'd feet!
My heart your footstool name!
Bare-footed through the dew she came,
Her Love to meet.
My heart your footstool name!
Bare-footed through the dew she came,
Her Love to meet.
68
HAPPY DAYS.
O happy days of innocence and song!
When Love was ever welcome, never wrong;
When words were from the heart, when folk were fain
To answer truth with truthfulness again.
O happy days of innocence and song!
When Love was ever welcome, never wrong;
When words were from the heart, when folk were fain
To answer truth with truthfulness again.
O happy days of innocence and song!
O blessed days of unforbidden joy!
When gentle Love was yet a thoughtless boy,
Unchidden for his boldness, yet afraid,
For that he loved, to importune his Maid.
O vernal promise of eternal joy!
When gentle Love was yet a thoughtless boy,
Unchidden for his boldness, yet afraid,
For that he loved, to importune his Maid.
O vernal promise of eternal joy!
O happy days of unrestrained song!
Days unto which fond memories belong:
A golden dawn that never may return,
Howe'er the poet's heart for you must yearn,
O happy days of innocence and song!
Days unto which fond memories belong:
A golden dawn that never may return,
Howe'er the poet's heart for you must yearn,
O happy days of innocence and song!
69
THE SILENCED SINGER.
The nest is built, the song hath ceased:
The minstrel joineth in the feast,
So singeth not. The poet's verse,
Crippled by Hymen's household curse,
Follows no more its hungry quest.
Well if Love's feathers line the nest.
The minstrel joineth in the feast,
So singeth not. The poet's verse,
Crippled by Hymen's household curse,
Follows no more its hungry quest.
Well if Love's feathers line the nest.
Yet blame not that beside the fire
Love hangeth up his unstrung lyre!
How sing of hope when Hope hath fled,
Joy whispering lip to lip instead?
Or how repeat the tuneful moan
When the Obdurate's all my own?
Love hangeth up his unstrung lyre!
How sing of hope when Hope hath fled,
Joy whispering lip to lip instead?
Or how repeat the tuneful moan
When the Obdurate's all my own?
Love, like the lark, while soaring sings:
Wouldst have him spread again his wings?
What careth he for higher skies
Who on the heart of harvest lies,
And finds both sun and firmament
Closed in the round of his content?
Wouldst have him spread again his wings?
What careth he for higher skies
Who on the heart of harvest lies,
And finds both sun and firmament
Closed in the round of his content?
71
EARLY POEMS.
111
A REQUIEM.
Yet fresh petals of dropt blossomStrew upon her loveliest bosom!
Heap dark pansies at her feet!
Thyme and briar-roses sweet,
And the snow-flakes of the May,
If still lingering, softly lay
All about her garment neat,
Broidery fit for winding-sheet!
Water-lilies round her head
Wreathe! So white regrets the dead
Attend. Whatever of most fair
Wild or garden hath be there:
Keeping Her, since she must die,
Fragrant in our memory!
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