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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3957c9b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54148 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54148) diff --git a/old/54148-0.txt b/old/54148-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b655eee..0000000 --- a/old/54148-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8786 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love's Old Sweet Song, by -George H. (George Herman) Ellwanger - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Love's Old Sweet Song - -Author: George H. (George Herman) Ellwanger - -Release Date: February 10, 2017 [EBook #54148] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE'S OLD SWEET SONG *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MFR and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - LOVE’S OLD SWEET SONG - - A SHEAF OF LATTER-DAY LOVE-POEMS - GARNERED FROM MANY SOURCES - - - - - Books by the Same Author - - - THE GARDEN’S STORY, OR PLEASURES AND TRIALS OF AN AMATEUR GARDENER - - THE STORY OF MY HOUSE - - IN GOLD AND SILVER - - THE ROSE. By H. B. Ellwanger. Revised edition, with an Introduction - by George H. Ellwanger. - - IDYLLISTS OF THE COUNTRY-SIDE - - LOVE’S DEMESNE - - MEDITATIONS ON GOUT - - THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE - - - - - [Illustration: - - LOVE’S - OLD SWEET SONG - - A SHEAF OF - - LATTER-DAY LOVE-POEMS - - _Gathered from Many Sources_ - - BY - - GEORGE H. ELLWANGER - - _New York_ - - _Dodd-Mead - and - Company_ - - 1903] - - - - - _Copyright, 1903_, - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. - - _All rights reserved._ - - - _Copyright, 1896_, - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, - AS “LOVE’S DEMESNE.” - - - - University Press: - JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. - - - - - TO - THE MEMORY OF - - GLEESON WHITE, ESQ. - - In Friendliest Regard - - - - - _ENVOY._ - - - _Resound, ye strains, attuned by master-fingers, - That breathe so fondly Love’s consuming fire; - Some sweet and subtle as a chord that lingers, - Some grave and plaintive as the heart’s desire._ - - _Like June’s gay laughter thro’ the woodlands ringing, - These hymn the Present’s gladsome roundelay; - As Autumn grieves when choirs have ceased their singing, - Those voice their haunting burden, “Well-a-day!”_ - - _Yet, past or present, who the power would banish - That charms or blights, that blesses or that mars: - To happy lovers, how may Love e’er vanish,-- - To hearts forlorn, how hallowed are his scars!_ - - - - - PUBLISHERS’ NOTE. - - -In this Anthology is included in more convenient form the greater -portion of the poems contained in the two volumes entitled “Love’s -Demesne,” now out of print. The present collection has been carefully -revised by the Compiler, and like its predecessor occupies an entirely -distinct field, most of the selections being otherwise only accessible -in the volumes where they originally appeared, and the major part being -by living lyrists. - - - - - ACKNOWLEDGMENT. - - -The sincere thanks of the Editor are due, not only to those American -authors who have graciously allowed the reproduction of their poems, but -equally to the numerous British living poets whose graceful verses -appear in the following pages. In but one instance on the part of a -native author, and in but one instance on the part of a publisher, was -permission to include poems refused. With these exceptions the Compiler -has received the most cordial assistance from holders of copyrights. It -becomes a personal pleasure, therefore, to thank the following in -particular for their uniform courtesy, without which many a flowing -measure contained in “Love’s Old Sweet Song” must necessarily have been -omitted: Messrs. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., ROBERTS BROS., CHARLES -SCRIBNER’S SONS, MACMILLAN & CO., G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS, STONE & KIMBALL, -J. G. CUPPLES, BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., D. LOTHROP & CO., COPELAND & DAY, -HENRY HOLT & CO., R. WORTHINGTON & CO., WAY & WILLIAMS, LONGMANS, GREEN -& CO. To these and other publishers, to the sonorous choir of the poets -quoted from, and, finally, to Mr. GLEESON WHITE and Mr. _Edmund Clarence -Stedman_, the Compiler tenders his most grateful acknowledgments. - - - - - A PASSING WORD. - - -Bearing in mind the assertion of Monsieur de Milcourt, that prefaces for -the most part seem only made in order to “impose” upon the reader, a -brief foreword will suffice to explain the scope of the following pages. - -As will be apparent at a glance, the selections are all from modern, and -largely from living poets; the dominant chord is lyrical; and in the -general unisance the minor prevails over the major key. No excuse seems -called for in presenting a new anthology; for, given the same theme, -each compiler must of necessity present a different score, subject to -individual taste and preferences. “To apologize for a new anthology is -but one degree less sensible than to prepare it,” pertinently remarks -the editor of _Ballades and Rondeaus_. Such were but another case of -_qui s’excuse, s’accuse_. It may be observed, nevertheless, that the -path of the compiler is far from being strewn with flowers. Indeed, it -has been truly said that Æsop’s old man and boy with the donkey had not -a harder task than the maker of selections and collections of verses. - -Of recent years a number of excellent anthologies have been published on -a similar theme. But these deal mainly with the rhythmic fancies of the -elder bards, or in fewer instances, combine the older and the younger -schools. In the present instance the editor has been guided solely by -his own taste or predilections, having had no recourse to other -collections, beyond that of avoiding _excerpta_ too oft repeated; the -aim being so far as possible to include such examples of merit as are -not generally familiar to the average lover of poetry. Whether these be -by well-known authors, or by those who are little known, has not entered -into consideration, the prime object being to present as intrinsically -meritorious a collection, by both British and American modern lyrists, -as is possible within the limits of the space at command. - -The writer is not aware of a similar compilation having been previously -attempted, there being few who would care to brave the “omissions” that -must naturally be thrust at one’s door, more especially in the case of -an abstract from the works of living writers. Yet while fault may be -found, perchance, on the score of selection both by those who may be -excluded, as well as by those who are included, the editor of an -anthology should at least be thanked for placing many selections before -the reader that in the ordinary course of things he would miss,--either -through lack of time, or the inability to possess or consult the -multitudinous volumes he would be called upon to peruse. - -“The purchasing public for poetry,” says Mr. Lang, “must now consist -chiefly of poets, and they are usually poor.” The anthologist is the -bee, therefore, to extract the honey from the fragrant garland of song, -at the least fatigue to the reader. For every poet has not a hive of -sweets to draw from; and though the blooms be many in the parterre of -poesy, still these require to be plucked with reference not only to -individual beauty, but to general harmony as well. A single line may -sadly mar an otherwise flawless verse, as a single sonnet rendered -immortal the name of Félix Arvers. Many no doubt will miss some -favourites. Of such it may be observed that not a few lovely apostrophes -have been omitted on account of too great length, or, as previously -stated, owing to their being familiar to the great majority of readers. -Some poems, moreover, beautiful in themselves, have not been included, -despite their intrinsic merits, because they seemed to be out of accord -with the prevailing key, as in the case of numerous lyrics approaching -the form of so-termed _Vers de Société_. Still others, and many of these -extremely beautiful amatory poems, somewhat free in _motif_ or -treatment, have been excluded as not fulfilling the precise requirements -of the present collection; these were more appropriate grouped in a -volume by themselves. - -A few translations only have been admitted; the satisfactory translation -of verse being an art by itself, demanding special qualifications -possessed only by the few. But though it is not often that a rendition -does not suffer when compared with its original, it is equally true that -in some hands a transcription may equal if not surpass its prototype. -Witness, for example, Mr. Andrew Lang’s graceful stanzas entitled “An -Old Tune,” adapted from Gérard de Nerval’s dreamy _Fantaisie_, and which -although very closely rendered fully equal the original in colour and -fragrance, while surpassing it in melodiousness and rhythm. Nearly as -much might be said of Mr. Edmund Gosse’s version of Théophile de Viau’s -lovely sonnet, _Au moins ay-ie songé que ie vous ay baisée_, as also of -the late Thomas Ashe’s phrasing of _Ma vie a son secret, mon âme a son -mystère_, which has been so variously rendered by various translators. - -With Waller’s “Go, lovely rose,” Herrick’s “Gather ye roses,” Ford’s -“There is a lady sweet and kind,” and many another harmonious measure of -Lily, Lodge, Lovelace, Campion, Carew, and the rest of them ringing in -our ears, what comparison shall be made with the modern laureates of -love? Whether the latter indeed chant as sweetly as the Elizabethan -meistersingers and their successors under the Restoration, is a question -it were perhaps wiser to pass, from lack of space to dwell upon, leaving -the reader to form his own opinion. There are those who hold to the -contrary; there are others who in the best of existent love-poetry find -conceits as colourful, rhythm as resonant, and inspiration as melodious -as is still echoed from the sweetest strains of the Elizabethan lyre. -Rather, to each let that merit be accorded which is its due. The old -songs, like all truly beautiful things of eld, possess the puissant -stamp of endurance and the approval of the centuries, added to that -indefinable charm which age alone may impart; the new must yet be -mellowed and adjudged by Time. - -It must be remembered, too, that it is the _best_ of the ancient songs -we know and love so well; that if the entire verse of almost any olden -bard be closely scanned, it will be found, in very numerous instances, -of a widely uneven quality, with many a limping line, strained conceit, -or halting measure to offend. Song did not mount to the strain of merle -or mavis, or sing itself in the past with greater ease than is the case -at present. Greater freedom it possessed; and in the method more than in -the matter the chief distinction lies. This distinction between the -past-masters and the bards of the present is deftly set forth by Edmund -Gosse in his poem, “Impression,”-- - - - * * * * * - - “If we could dare to write as ill - As some whose voices haunt us still, - Even we, perchance, might call our own - Their deep enchanting undertone. - - We are too diffident and nice, - Too learnèd and too overwise, - Too much afraid of faults to be - The flutes of bold sincerity. - - For, as this sweet life passes by, - We blink and nod with critic eye; - We’ve no words rude enough to give - Its charm so frank and fugitive.” - - * * * * * - - -The term “ill” which is applied to the ancient versifiers in the above -lines were perhaps better rendered by the qualification “bold.” It is in -this boldness, vigour, and fire that the distinguishing difference -largely consists. And in the striving for new effects, when the present -aims to reproduce the past, these qualities are usually lacking in their -pristine fervour; while the latter-day impressionist and symbolist is -frequently so vague as to be well-nigh unintelligible. - -The sentiment underlying the expression of the lyrist of to-day does not -differ materially, after all, from that of his remote predecessor. The -pitch and _timbre_ of modern poetry are somewhat altered, to be sure. -There is less personality, less freedom,--shall I say a certain naïve -grace and spontaneous virility are wanting in existent verse as compared -with Elizabethan song? though in general the latter-day lyrist is the -superior craftsman in rhyme. The most marked variation between the two -periods is that the so-called Elizabethan poets for the most part wrote -their songs to be sung,--“music married to immortal verse.” The lilt and -blitheness of these are individual; and these qualities we are apt to -miss, in their primal grace, in many a love-song of the present. - -So far as the prevailing spirit of love itself is concerned, this has -undergone no change, unless that evolved by the natural refining -processes of time. Human nature must be human nature still; and passion -in the human heart exists unaltered in its essence. We may not have -another Herrick, nor may we summon another Tennyson; the breeze of -summer blows not twice alike in its passage through the woodland keys. -But there must always remain new chords to be sounded while the most -potent of verbs remains to be conjugated. The poets pass away, yet Love -is ever new; and so long as the seasons endure and new days dawn, the -tuneful choir will chant in infinite variation,-- - - “Methinks no leaf would ever bud in spring, - But for the lovers’ lips that kiss, the poets’ lips that sing.” - -The darts of Eros’ quiver are just as numerous and deftly feathered as -of yore. Only there are more hearts to hit, with proportionally more -registrars to chronicle the passage of his shafts. Still, as of old, the -exhortation, _Carpe Diem!_ reverberates through the poet’s page; the -rose likewise hath not lost her fragrance, or the violet her perfume; -and still, despite stings and thorns, kisses and favours remain sweet -things. - -Writing love-lyrics is less a momentous occupation now than in the times -of doublet and hose. It is fair to assume, notwithstanding, that many a -charming fantasy in verse, many an ethereal flight winged from modern -lover to modern mistress, never sees the light of the printed page, as -was far less the case in ancient days; but remains inviolate with the -person by whom it was inspired. Could we obtain access to many -passionate apostrophes that exist but in manuscript alone, cherished or -known only by the sender and recipient, what a fragrant garland were -ours! - -Recurring to the comparison already touched upon, Cupid and Campaspe -have not ceased to play their game of cards; while the admonition to -Lesbia to “live and love” will continue to be current coin amid the -“golden cadences” of all time. For, - - “What to him is snow or rime, - Who calls his love his own?” - -It were difficult, in truth, to wrest from Waller his “girdle” of -immortal fame, or for any twentieth-century laureate to excel Jonson’s -spirited pledge, “To Celia,” or to vie with the sublime strain of -Herrick’s “Bid me to live.” And who shall surpass the delicate lacelike -grace of Lodge’s “Love in my bosom like a bee,” “My bonny lass! thine -eye,” and his still more impassioned rendition of the charms of -“Rosalind”? - -Who, too, shall outsoar the plumèd flight of Heywood’s “Pack clouds -away,” or transcend the birdlike carol of Davenant, “The lark now leaves -his wat’ry nest”? And where shall we look for a rival to Marvell’s “Had -we but world enough and time,” or the music and dainty conceit of -Carew’s “Ask me no more where Jove bestows”? These, and how many, many -more, pulsate with the sweetness and plaintiveness of a zither touched -by master fingers. Reading them as they attune and chant themselves -despite the lapse of centuries, they recall the picture Glapthorne so -vividly depicts of a _Gentleman playing on the Lute_:-- - - “Whose numerous fingers whiter farre - Than Venus swans or ermines are - Wag’d with the amorous strings a Warre, - But such a Warre as did invite - The sense of Hearing, and the Sight - To riot in a full delight.” - -A review of the following pages, on the other hand, will disclose many a -delicious wild-flower that, alike in form and hue, is a stranger to the -gardens of the past. It is perhaps unfair to individualise; but for the -sake of comparison solely, a few instances may be cited with no -disparagement to the excellence of the whole of which they form a part. -So far as musical sweetness of tone, elevated sentiment, and facility of -rhythmic utterance are concerned, Tennyson and Swinburne stand -unequalled in their special spheres. The short lyric, however, does not -occur nearly as frequently with the latter as with the former, who -abounds in pure love-lays, fluid and tender as a thrush’s song. What -more fragrantly exquisite than “Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the -white,” or indeed the scores of _amoretti_ with which he has added to -“golden numbers, golden numbers”! With Shakespeare and Milton a master -of the sonnet, a large portion of Rossetti’s shorter pieces have been -expressed in this his favourite vehicle of verse. Surely the music of -song, even though it be in sonnet form, has not suffered a decline when -such impassioned chords are heard as vibrate amid “The House of Life.” -But acting on prescribed lines, the sonnet in consequence has been but -sparingly employed in this collection. - -Surely, too, there is a grace as fine as that of the choir of Elizabeth -and James, in such airy flights as, “Love on my heart from heaven fell,” -“Sweetheart, sigh no more,” “I breathe my heart in the heart of the -rose,” and “Up, up, my heart!” Again, we must search long for as -powerful a love lyric as _Splendide Mendax_, or the haunting cadences -that rise and fall, sonata-like, throughout “A Dead March.” And how -exquisite the simple lines to a star of Mr. Garnett, the rhapsody “Oh to -think, oh to think” of Mr. Gale, Mr. Bridges’ “Long are the hours the -sun is above,” Mathilde Blind’s “I charge you, O winds of the West,” -Arthur O’Shaughnessy’s “Has summer come without the rose,” or the -chivalrous notes of Mr. Pollock’s “It is not mine to sing the stately -grace”! And these are not exceptions or individual instances, but -merely a few examples taken at random for the sake of illustration. It -is more the lack of the musicians, it would seem, than any want of -suitable pieces to be set to music, that must account for the decadence -of “Song” proper, since the ancient days of lute and lyre. - -No great poet sings because he must sing, we are told; a great poet -sings because he chooses to sing. Let us thank the truly great, -therefore, for so choosing, and the lesser in proportion, on the -principle of receiving all favours thankfully according to their merit -and degree. Meanwhile, in the various phases of Love as portrayed so -musically by the full-throated choir in the subjoined pages, the reader -may peradventure read and learn. For, as voiced by Owen Meredith,-- - - “To mock the faith that lovers place - In life’s acquired love lore, - New lessons, latest-learned, efface - Old teachings taught before.” - - G. H. E. - - - - - LOVE’S OLD SWEET SONG. - - - - - SINCE YESTERDAY. - - - The mavis sang but yesterday - A strain that thrilled through autumn’s dearth; - He read the music of his lay - In light and leaf, and heaven and earth; - The wind-flowers by the wayside swung, - Words of the music that was sung. - - In all his song the shade and sun - Of earth and heaven seemed to meet; - Its joy and sorrow were as one, - Its very sadness was but sweet. - He sang of summers yet to be; - You listened to his song with me. - - The heart makes sunshine in the rain, - Or winter in the midst of May; - And though the mavis sings again - His self-same song of yesterday, - I find no gladness in his tone: - To-day I listen here alone. - - And--even our sunniest moment takes - Such shadows of the bliss we knew-- - To-day his throbbing song awakes - But wistful, haunting thoughts of you; - Its very sweetness is but sad: - You gave it all the joy it had. - - A. ST. J. ADCOCK. - - - - - AN AWAKENING. - - - Love had forgotten and gone to sleep; - Love had forgotten the present and past. - I was so glad when he ceased to weep; - “Now he is quiet,” I whispered, “at last.” - - What sent you here on that night of all nights, - Breaking his slumber, dreamless and deep, - Just as I whispered below my breath, - “Love has forgotten and gone to sleep”? - - ANNE REEVE ALDRICH. - - - - - LOVE, THE DESTROYER. - - - Love is a Fire; - Nor Shame nor Pride can well withstand Desire. - “For what are they,” we cry, “that they should dare - To keep, O Love, the haughty look they wear? - Nay, burn the victims, O thou sacred Fire, - That with their death thou mayst but flame the higher. - Let them feel once the fierceness of thy breath, - And make thee still more beauteous with their death.” - - Love is a Fire; - But ah, how short-lived is the flame Desire! - Love, having burnt whatever once we cherished, - And blackened all things else, itself hath perished. - And now alone in gathering night we stand, - Ashes and ruin stretch on either hand; - Yet while we mourn, our sad hearts whisper low: - “We served the mightiest God that man can know.” - - ANNE REEVE ALDRICH. - - - - - SWEETHEART, SIGH NO MORE. - - - It was with doubt and trembling - I whispered in her ear. - Go, take her answer, bird-on-bough, - That all the world may hear-- - _Sweetheart, sigh no more!_ - - Sing it, sing it, tawny throat, - Upon the wayside tree, - How fair she is, how true she is, - How dear she is to me-- - _Sweetheart, sigh no more!_ - - Sing it, sing it, tawny throat, - And through the summer long - The winds among the clover-tops, - And brooks, for all their silvery stops, - Shall envy you the song-- - _Sweetheart, sigh no more!_ - - THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. - - - - - THE FADED VIOLET. - - - What thought is folded in thy leaves! - What tender thought, what speechless pain! - I hold thy faded lips to mine, - Thou darling of the April rain! - - I hold thy faded lips to mine, - Though scent and azure tint are fled-- - O dry, mute lips! ye are the type - Of something in me cold and dead: - - Of something wilted like thy leaves; - Of fragrance flown, of beauty dim; - Yet for the love of those white hands - That found thee by a river’s brim-- - - That found thee when thy dewy mouth - Was purpled as with stains of wine-- - For love of her who love forgot, - I hold thy faded lips to mine. - - That thou shouldst live when I am dead, - When hate is dead, for me, and wrong, - For this I use my subtlest art, - For this I fold thee in my song. - - THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. - - - - - SONG. - - - Nay! if thou must depart, thou shalt depart; - But why so soon, oh, heart-blood of my heart! - Go then! Yet, going, turn and stay thy feet, - That I may once more see that face so sweet. - - Once more--if never more; for swift days go - As hastening waters from their fountains flow; - And whether yet again shall meeting be - Who knows? Who knows? Ah! turn once more to me! - - SIR EDWIN ARNOLD. - - - - - CALAIS SANDS. - - - A thousand knights have rein’d their steeds - To watch this line of sand hills run, - Along the never-silent strait, - To Calais, glittering in the sun. - - To look tow’rd Ardres’ Golden Field - Across the wide aerial plain, - Which glows as if the Middle Age - Were gorgeous upon earth again. - - Oh, that to share this famous scene, - I saw, upon the open sand, - Thy lovely presence at my side, - Thy shawl, thy look, thy smile, thy hand! - - How exquisite thy voice would come, - My darling, on this lonely air! - How sweetly would the fresh sea-breeze - Shake loose some band of soft brown hair! - - Yet now my glance but once hath roved - O’er Calais and its famous plain; - To England’s cliffs my gaze is turn’d, - On the blue strait mine eyes I strain. - - Thou comest! Yes! the vessel’s cloud - Hangs dark upon the rolling sea. - Oh, that yon sea-bird’s wings were mine, - To win one instant’s glimpse of thee! - - I must not spring to grasp thy hand, - To woo thy smile, to seek thine eye; - But I may stand far off, and gaze, - And watch thee pass unconscious by, - - And spell thy looks, and guess thy thoughts, - Mixt with the idlers on the pier.-- - Ah, might I always rest unseen, - So I might have thee always near! - - To-morrow hurry through the fields - Of Flanders to the storied Rhine! - To-night those soft-fringed eyes shall close - Beneath one roof, my queen! with mine. - - MATTHEW ARNOLD. - - - - - PHANTOMS. - - - My days are full of pleasant memories - Of all those women sweet - Whom I have known! How tenderly their eyes - Flash thro’ the days--too fleet!-- - Which long ago went by with sun and rain, - Flowers, or the winter snow; - And still thro’ memory’s palace-halls are fain - In rustling robes to go! - Or wed, or widow’d, or with milkless breasts, - Around those women stand, - Like mists that linger on the mountain crests - Rear’d in a phantom land; - And love is in their mien and in their look, - And from their lips a stream - Of tender words flows, smooth as any brook, - And softer than a dream: - And one by one, holding my hands, they say - Things of the years agone; - And each head will a little turn away, - And each one still sigh on, - Because they think such meagre joy we had; - For love was little bold, - And youth had store, and chances to be glad, - And squander’d so his gold. - Blue eyes, and gray, and blacker than the sloe, - And dusk and golden hair, - And lips that broke in kisses long ago, - Like sun-kiss’d flowers are there; - And warm fireside, and sunny orchard wall, - And river-brink and bower, - And wood and hill, and morning and day-fall, - And every place and hour! - And each on each a white unclouded brow - Still as a sister bends, - As they would say, “Love makes us kindred now, - Who sometime were his friends.” - - THOMAS ASHE. - - - - - THE GUEST. - - - Lights Love, the timorous bird, to dwell, - While summer smiles, a guest with you? - Be wise betimes and use him well, - And he will stay in winter too: - For you can have no sweeter thing - Within the heart’s warm nest to sing. - - The blue-plumed swallows fly away, - Ere autumn gilds a leaf; and then - Have wit to find another day - The little clay-built house again: - He will not know, a second spring, - His last year’s nest, if Love take wing. - - THOMAS ASHE. - - - - - THE SECRET. - - FROM THE FRENCH OF FÉLIX ARVERS. - - - My life its secret and its mystery has, - A love eternal in a moment born; - There is no hope to help my evil case, - And she knows naught who makes me thus forlorn. - - And I unmark’d shall ever by her pass - Aye at her side, and yet for aye alone; - And I shall waste my bitter days, alas! - And never dare to claim my love my own! - - And she whom God has made so sweet and dear, - Will go her way, distraught, and never hear - This murmur round her of my love and pain; - - To austere duty true, will go her way, - And read these verses full of her, and say, - “Who is this woman that he sings of then?” - - THOMAS ASHE. - - - - - IF LOVE COULD LAST! - - - If Love could last, if Love could last, - The Future be as was the Past, - Nor faith and fondness ever know - The chill of dwindling afterglow, - Oh, then we should not have to long - For cuckoo’s call and throstle’s song, - But every season then would ring - With rapturous voices of the spring. - In budding brake and grassy glade - The primrose then would never fade, - The windflower flag, the bluebell haze - Faint from the winding woodland ways, - But vernal hopes chase wintry fears, - And happy smiles and happier tears - Be like the sun and clouds at play,-- - If Love could last! - - If Love could last, the rose would then - Not bloom but once, to fade again. - June to the lily would not give - A life less fair than fugitive, - But flower and leaf and lawn renew - Their freshness nightly with the dew. - In forest dingles, dim and deep, - Where curtained noonday lies asleep, - The faithful ringdove ne’er would cease - Its anthem of abiding peace. - All the year round we then should stray - Through fragrance of the new-mown hay, - Or sit and ponder old-world rhymes - Under the leaves of scented limes. - Careless of time, we should not fear - The footsteps of the fleeting year, - Or, did the long warm days depart, - ’Twould still be summer in our heart,-- - Did Love but last! - - Did Love but last, no shade of grief - For fading flower, for falling leaf, - For stubbles whence the piled-up wain - Hath borne away the golden grain, - Leaving a load of loss behind, - Would shock the heart and haunt the mind. - With mellow gaze we then should see - The ripe fruit shaken from the tree, - The swallows troop, the acorns fall, - The last peach redden on the wall, - The oasthouse smoke, the hopbine burn, - Knowing that all good things return - To Love that lasts! - - If Love could last, who then would mind - The freezing rack, the unfeeling wind, - The curdling pool, the shivering sedge, - The empty nest in leafless hedge, - Brown dripping bents and furrows bare, - The wild geese clamouring through the air, - The huddling kine, the sodden leaves, - Lack-lustre dawns and clammy eves? - For then through twilight days morose - We should within keep warm and close, - And by the friendly fireside blaze - Talk of the ever-sacred days - When first we met, and felt how drear - Were life without the other near; - Or, too at peace with bliss to speak, - Sit hand in hand, and cheek to cheek,-- - If Love could last! - - - YET LOVE CAN LAST. - - Yet Love _can_ last, yes, Love can last, - The Future be as was the Past, - And faith and fondness never know - The chill of dwindling afterglow, - If to familiar hearth there cling - The virgin freshness of the spring, - And April’s music still be heard - In wooing voice and winning word. - If when autumnal shadows streak - The furrowed brow, the wrinkled cheek, - Devotion, deepening to the close, - Like fruit that ripens, tenderer grows; - If, though the leaves of youth and hope - Lie thick on life’s declining slope, - The fond heart, faithful to the last, - Lingers in love-drifts of the past; - If, with the gravely shortening days, - Faith trims the lamp, Faith feeds the blaze, - And Reverence, robed in wintry white, - Sheds fragrance like a summer night,-- - Then Love can last! - - ALFRED AUSTIN. - - - - - A JOURNEY. - - - The same green hill, the same blue sea,-- - Yet, love, thou art no more to me! - - The same long reach of yellow sand,-- - Where is the touch of thy soft hand? - - The same wide open arch of sky,-- - But, sweetheart, thou no more art nigh! - - God love thee and God keep thee strong: - I breathe that pure prayer through my song! - - I send my soul across the waste - To seek and find thy soul in haste! - - Across the inland woods and glades, - And through the leaf-laced checkered shades, - - My spirit passes, seeking thee; - No more I tarry by the sea. - - For where thou art am I for ever; - Mere space and time divide us never. - - GEORGE BARLOW. - - - - - IF ONLY THOU ART TRUE. - - - If only a single Rose is left, - Why should the summer pine? - A blade of grass in a rocky cleft; - A single star to shine. - --Why should I sorrow if all be lost, - If only thou art mine? - - If only a single Bluebell gleams - Bright on the barren heath, - Still of that flower the summer dreams, - Not of his August wreath. - --Why should I sorrow if thou art mine, - Love, beyond change and death? - - If only once on a wintry day - The sun shines forth in the blue, - He gladdens the groves till they laugh as in May - And dream of the touch of the dew. - --Why should I sorrow if all be false, - If only thou art true? - - GEORGE BARLOW. - - - - - THE ECSTASY OF THE HAIR. - - - I’d send a troop of kisses to entangle - And lose themselves in labyrinths of hair,-- - Thy deep dark night of hair with stars to spangle, - And each, a firefly’s tiny lamp, to dangle - Amid the tresses of that forest fair. - A perfume seems to blossom into air; - The ecstasy that hangs about the tresses, - Their blush, their overflow, their breath, their bloom; - A wind that gently lifts them and caresses, - And wings itself and floats about the room; - The beauty that the flame of youth expresses, - A tender fire, too tender to consume, - Which, seizing all my soul, pervades, possesses, - And mingleth in a subtly sweet perfume. - - GEORGE BARLOW. - - - - - THE NIGHT WATCHES. - - - Come, oh, come to me, voice or look, or spirit or dream, but, - oh, come now; - All these faces that crowd so thick are pale and cold and dead--Come thou, - Scatter them back to the ivory gate and be alone and rule the night. - - Surely all worlds are nothing to Love, for Love to flash thro’ - the night and come; - Hither and thither he flies at will, with thee he dwelleth--there - is his home. - Come, O Love, with a voice, a message; haste, O Love, on thy wings - of light. - - Love, I am calling thee, Love, I am calling; dost thou not hear my - crying, sweet? - Does not the live air throb with the pain of my beating heart, till - thy heart beat?-- - Surely momently thou wilt be here, surely, O sweet Love, momently. - - No, my voice would be all too faint, too faint, when it reached Love’s - ear, tho’ the night is still, - Fainter ever and fainter grown o’er hill and valley and valley and hill, - There where thou liest quietly sleeping, and Love keeps watch as the - dreams flit by. - - Ah, my thought so subtle and swift, can it not fly till it reach - thy brain, - And whisper there some faint regret for a weary watch and a - distant pain?-- - Not too loud, to awake thy slumber; not too tender, to make - thee weep; - - Just so much for thy head to turn on the pillow so, and understand - Dimly, that a soft caress has come long leagues from a weary land, - Turn and half remember and smile, and send a kiss on the wings - of sleep. - - H. C. BEECHING. - - - - - IN A ROSE GARDEN. - - - A hundred years from now, dear heart, - We will not care at all. - It will not matter then a whit, - The honey or the gall. - The summer days that we have known - Will all forgotten be and flown; - The garden will be overgrown - Where now the roses fall. - - A hundred years from now, dear heart, - We will not mind the pain. - The throbbing crimson tide of life - Will not have left a stain. - The song we sing together, dear, - The dream we dream together here, - Will mean no more than means a tear - Amid a summer rain. - - A hundred years from now, dear heart, - The grief will all be o’er; - The sea of care will surge in vain - Upon a careless shore. - These glasses we turn down to-day - Here at the parting of the way: - We will be wineless then as they, - And will not mind it more. - - A hundred years from now, dear heart, - We’ll neither know nor care - What came of all life’s bitterness - Or followed love’s despair. - Then fill the glasses up again - And kiss me through the rose-leaf rain; - We’ll build one castle more in Spain, - And dream one more dream there. - - JOHN BENNETT. - - - - - I CHARGE YOU, O WINDS OF THE WEST. - - - I charge you, O winds of the West, O winds with the wings of the dove, - That ye blow o’er the brows of my Love, breathing low that I - sicken for love. - - I charge you, O dews of the dawn, O tears of the star of the morn, - That ye fall at the feet of my love, with the sound of one - weeping forlorn. - - I charge you, O birds of the air, O birds flying home to your nest, - That ye sing in his ears of the joy that for ever has fled - from my breast. - - I charge you, O flowers of the Earth, O frailest of things, and most fair, - That ye droop in his path as the life in me shrivels and droops - with despair. - - O Moon, when he lifts up his face, when he seeth the waning of thee, - A memory of her who lies wan on the limits of life let it be. - - Many tears cannot quench, nor my sighs extinguish the flames - of love’s fire, - Which lifteth my heart like a wave, and smites it and breaks - its desire. - - I rise like one in a dream; unbidden my feet know the way - To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and - white hawthorn of May. - - The song of the throstle is hushed, and the fountain is dry - to its core, - The moon cometh up as of old; she seeks, but she finds him - no more. - - The pale-faced, pitiful moon shines down on the grass where - I weep, - My face to the earth, and my breast in an anguish ne’er - soothed into sleep. - - The moon returns, and the spring, birds warble, trees burst - into leaf, - But love once gone, goes for ever, and all that endures is - the grief. - - MATHILDE BLIND. - - - - - SONG. - - - Thou walkest with me as the spirit-light - Of the hushed moon, high o’er a snowy hill, - Walks with the houseless traveller all the night, - When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill. - Moon of my soul, O phantom of delight, - Thou walkest with me still. - - The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns - In my soul’s sanctuary. Yea, still for thee - My bitter heart hath yearned, as moonward yearns - Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea: - My moon of love, to whom for ever turns - That life that aches through me. - - MATHILDE BLIND. - - - - - CÆLI. - - - If stars were really watching eyes - Of angel armies in the skies, - I should forget all watchers there, - And only for your glances care. - - And if your eyes were really stars, - With leagues that none can mete for bars - To keep me from their longed-for day, - I could not feel more far away. - - F. W. BOURDILLON. - - - - - LOVE IN THE HEART. - - - Love in the heart is as a nightingale - That sings in a green wood; - And none can pass unheeding there, nor fail - Of impulses of good. - - Though cruel brief be Love’s bright hour of song, - Yet let him sing his fill! - For other hearts the echoes shall prolong - When Love’s own voice is still. - - F. W. BOURDILLON. - - - - - I WILL NOT LET THEE GO. - - - I will not let thee go. - Ends all our month-long love in this? - Can it be summed up so, - Quit in a single kiss? - I will not let thee go. - - I will not let thee go. - If thy words’ breath could scare thy deeds, - As the soft south can blow - And toss the feathered seeds, - Then might I let thee go. - - I will not let thee go. - Had not the great sun seen, I might; - Or were he reckoned slow - To bring the false to light, - Then might I let thee go. - - I will not let thee go. - The stars that crowd the summer skies - Have watched us so below - With all their million eyes, - I dare not let thee go. - - I will not let thee go. - Have we not chid the changeful moon, - Now rising late, and now - Because she set too soon, - And shall I let thee go? - - I will not let thee go. - Have not the young flowers been content, - Plucked ere their buds could blow, - To seal our sacrament? - I cannot let thee go. - - I will not let thee go. - I hold thee by too many bands: - Thou sayest farewell, and lo! - I have thee by the hands, - And will not let thee go. - - ROBERT BRIDGES. - - - - - LONG ARE THE HOURS. - - - Long are the hours the sun is above, - But when evening comes I go home to my love. - - I’m away the daylight hours and more, - Yet she comes not down to open the door. - - She does not meet me upon the stair,-- - She sits in my chamber and waits for me there. - - As I enter the room, she does not move: - I always walk straight up to my love; - - And she lets me take my wonted place - At her side, and gaze in her dear, dead face. - - There as I sit, from her head thrown back - Her hair falls straight in a shadow black. - - Aching and hot as my tired eyes be, - She is all that I wish to see. - - And in my wearied and toil-dinned ear, - She says all things that I wish to hear. - - Dusky and duskier grows the room, - Yet I see her best in the darker gloom. - - When the winter eves are early and cold, - The firelight hours are a dream of gold. - - And so I sit here night by night, - In rest and enjoyment of love’s delight. - - But a knock on the door, a step on the stair - Will startle, alas, my love from her chair. - - If a stranger comes, she will not stay: - At the first alarm she is off and away. - - And he wonders, my guest, usurping her throne, - That I sit so much by myself alone. - - ROBERT BRIDGES. - - - - - APPARITIONS. - - - I. - - Such a starved bank of moss - Till, that May morn, - Blue ran the flash across: - Violets were born! - - - II. - - Sky--what a scowl of cloud - Till, near and far, - Ray on ray split the shroud: - Splendid, a star! - - - III. - - World--how it walled about - Life with disgrace - Till God’s own smile came out: - That was thy face. - - ROBERT BROWNING. - - - - - PORPHYRIA’S LOVER. - - - The rain set early in to-night, - The sullen wind was soon awake; - It tore the elm-tops down for spite, - And did its worst to vex the lake. - I listened with heart fit to break, - - When glided in Porphyria; straight - She shut the cold out and the storm, - And kneeled and made the cheerless grate - Blaze up, and all the cottage warm; - Which done, she rose, and from her form - - Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, - And laid her soiled gloves by, untied - Her hat and let the damp hair fall, - And, last, she sat down by my side - And called me. When no voice replied, - - She put my arm about her waist, - And made her smooth, white shoulder bare, - And all her yellow hair displaced, - And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, - And spread o’er all her yellow hair,-- - - Murmuring how she loved me,--she - Too weak for all her heart’s endeavour, - To set its struggling passion free - From pride, and vainer ties dissever, - And give herself to me for ever. - - But passion sometimes would prevail, - Nor could to-night’s gay feast restrain - A sudden thought of one so pale - For love of her, and all in vain: - So, she was come through wind and rain. - - Be sure I looked up at her eyes - Happy and proud; at last I knew - Porphyria worshipped me; surprise - Made my heart swell, and still it grew - While I debated what to do. - - That moment she was mine, mine, fair, - Perfectly pure and good: I found - A thing to do, and all her hair - In one long yellow string I wound - Three times her little throat around, - - And strangled her. No pain felt she; - I am quite sure she felt no pain. - As a shut bud that holds a bee, - I warily oped her lids: again - Laughed the blue eyes without a stain. - - And I untightened next the tress - About her neck; her cheek once more - Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss: - I propped her head up as before. - Only this time my shoulder bore - - Her head, which droops upon it still: - The smiling rosy little head, - So glad it has its utmost will, - That all it scorned at once is fled, - And I, its love, am gained instead! - - Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how - Her darling one wish would be heard. - And thus we sit together now, - And all night long we have not stirred, - And yet God has not said a word. - - ROBERT BROWNING. - - - - - ROBIN’S SONG. - - WARWICKSHIRE, 16--. - - - Up, up, my heart! up, up, my heart, - This day was made for thee! - For soon the hawthorn spray shall part, - And thou a face shalt see - That comes, O heart, O foolish heart, - This way to gladden thee. - - The grass shows fresher on the way - That soon her feet shall tread-- - The last year’s leaflet curled and gray, - I could have sworn was dead, - Looks green, for lying in the way - I know her feet will tread. - - What hand yon blossom-curtain stirs, - More light than errant air? - I know the touch--’tis hers, ’tis hers! - She parts the thicket there-- - The flowerèd branch her coming stirs - Hath perfumed all the air. - - The springs of all forgotten years - Are waked to life anew-- - Up, up, my eyes, nor fill with tears - As tender as the dew-- - I knew her not in all those years; - But life begins anew. - - Up, up, my heart! up, up, my heart, - This day was made for thee! - Come, Wit, take on thy nimblest art, - And win Love’s victory-- - What now? Where art thou, coward heart? - Thy hour is here--and She! - - H. C. BUNNER. - - - - - THE HOUR OF SHADOWS. - - - Upon that quiet day that lies - Where forest branches screen the skies, - The spirit of the eve has laid - A deeper and a dreamier shade; - And winds that through the tree-tops blow - Wake not the silent gloom below. - - Only the sound of far-off streams, - Faint as our dreams of childhood’s dreams, - Wandering in tangled pathways crost, - Like woodland truants strayed and lost, - Their faint, complaining echoes roam, - Threading the forest toward their home. - - O brooks, I too have gone astray, - And left my comrade on the way-- - Guide me through aisles where soft you moan, - To some sad spot you know alone, - Where only leaves and nestlings stir, - And I may dream, and dream of Her. - - H. C. BUNNER. - - - - - CARNATIONS IN WINTER. - - - Your carmine flakes of bloom to-night - The fire of wintry sunsets hold; - Again in dreams you burn to light - A fair Canadian garden old. - - The blue north summer over it - Is bland with long ethereal days; - The gleaming martins wheel and flit - Where breaks your sun down orient ways. - - There, when the gradual twilight falls, - Through quietudes of dusk afar, - Hermit, antiphonal hermit calls - From hills below the first pale star. - - Then, in your passionate love’s foredoom - Once more your spirit stirs the air, - And you are lifted through the gloom - To warm the coils of her dark hair. - - BLISS CARMAN. - - - - - THE EAVESDROPPER. - - - In a still room at hush of dawn, - My Love and I lay side by side - And heard the roaming forest wind - Stir in the paling autumn-tide. - - I watched her earth-brown eyes grow glad - Because the round day was so fair; - While memories of reluctant night - Lurked in the blue dusk of her hair. - - Outside, a yellow maple-tree, - Shifting upon the silvery blue - With small innumerable sound, - Rustled to let the sunlight through. - - The livelong day the elvish leaves - Danced with their shadows on the floor; - And the lost children of the wind - Went straying homeward by our door. - - And all the swarthy afternoon - We watched the great deliberate sun - Walk through the crimsoned hazy world, - Counting his hilltops one by one. - - Then as the purple twilight came - And touched the vines along our eaves, - Another shadow stood without - And gloomed the dancing of the leaves. - - The silence fell on my Love’s lips; - Her great brown eyes were veiled and sad - With pondering some maze of dream, - Though all the splendid year was glad. - - Restless and vague as a gray wind - Her heart had grown, she knew not why. - But hurrying to the open door, - Against the verge of western sky - - I saw retreating on the hills, - Looming and sinister and black, - The stealthy figure swift and huge - Of One who strode and looked not back. - - BLISS CARMAN. - - - - - THE IMPOSSIBLE SHE. - - - Far away hangs an apple that ripens on high - The latest-born child of old sun-blind July, - Till the summer’s warm kiss as he wooes overhead - Turns its sour heart to sweetness, its wan cheek to red. - But it is not for you, and it is not for me, - Nay, it is not for any who here may be; - For its dawning red sweetness, - That rounds to completeness - Grows moist for the lips that we never may see. - - There’s a white rose leaf-cloistered in heavy noon-hush, - And no eyes but the stars tempt its pale face to blush, - In that wilderness garden where, shut from day’s beam, - Fall its fragrant white leaves, light as steps of a dream. - But it is not for you, and it is not for me, - Nay, it is not for any who here may be; - For it sleeps and then wakes - In dew-scented snow-flakes, - As a star for the dusk hair we never may see. - - In a green golden valley there grows an elf-girl, - And her lip is red-ripe; and her soul, one rich pearl, - Yields once to one diver a treasure unpriced - As the wine of the Gods or the wine-blood of Christ. - But she is not for you, and she is not for me, - Nay she is not for any who here may be; - For her breast like a moon - Through the rosed air of June - Grows round for his hand whom we never may see. - - HENRY BERNARD CARPENTER. - - - - - A DREAM SHAPE. - - - With moon-white hearts that held a gleam - I gathered wild flowers in a dream, - And shaped a woman, whose sweet blood - Was odour of the wildwood bud. - - From dew, the starlight arrowed through, - I wrought a woman’s eyes of blue; - The lids, that on her eyeballs lay, - Were rose-pale petals of the May. - - I took the music of the breeze, - And water whispering in the trees, - And shaped the soul that breathed below - A woman’s blossom breasts of snow. - - Out of a rose-bud’s veins I drew - The fragrant crimsom beating through - The languid lips of her, whose kiss - Was as a poppy’s drowsiness. - - Out of the moonlight and the air - I wrought the glory of her hair, - That o’er her eyes’ blue heaven lay - Like some gold cloud o’er dawn of day. - - A shadow’s shadow in the glass - Of sleep, my spirit saw her pass; - And, thinking of it now, meseems - We only live within our dreams. - - For in that time she was to me - More real than our reality; - More real than Earth, more real than I-- - The unreal things that pass and die. - - MADISON CAWEIN. - - - - - UNREQUITED. - - - Passion? not hers who fixed me with pure eyes-- - One hand among the deep curls of her brow, - I drank the girlhood of her gaze with sighs: - She never sighed, nor gave me kiss or vow. - - So have I seen a clear October pool, - Cold, liquid topaz set within the sear - Gold of the woodland, tremorless and cool, - Reflecting all the heartbreak of the year. - - Sweetheart? not she whose voice was music-sweet, - Whose face loaned language to melodious prayer; - Sweetheart I called her.--When did she repeat - Sweet to one hope or heart to one despair! - - So have I seen a glad flower’s fragrant head - Sung to and sung to by a longing bird, - And at the last, albeit the bird lay dead, - No blossom wilted, for it had not heard. - - MADISON CAWEIN. - - - - - IN THE WOOD. - - - Through laughing leaves the sunlight comes, - Turning the green to gold; - The bee about the heather hums, - And the morning air is cold - Here on the breezy woodland side, - Where we two ride. - - Through laughing leaves on golden hair, - The sunlight glances down, - And makes a halo round her there, - And crowns her with a crown - Queen of the sunrise and the sun, - As we ride on. - - The wanton wind has kissed her face,-- - His lips have left a rose,-- - He found her cheek so sweet a place - For kisses, I suppose,-- - He thought he’d leave a sign, that so - Others might know. - - The path grows narrower as we ride - The green boughs close above, - And overhead, and either side, - The wild birds sing of Love:-- - But ah, she is not listening - To what they sing! - - Till I take up the wild bird’s song - And word by word unfold - Its meaning as we ride along,-- - And when my tale is told, - I turn my eyes to hers again,-- - And then,--and then,-- - - (The bridle path more narrow grows, - The leaves shut out the sun;--) - Where the wind’s lips left their one rose - My own leave more than one:-- - While the leaves murmur up above, - And laugh for love. - - This was the place;--you see the sky - Now ’twixt the branches bare; - About the path the dead leaves lie, - And songless is the air;-- - All’s changed since then, for that you know - Was long ago. - - Let us ride on! The wind is cold.-- - Let us ride on--ride fast!-- - ’Tis winter, and we know of old - That love could never last - Without the summer and the sun!-- - Let us ride on! - - HERBERT E. CLARKE. - - - - - BIRDS AND LOVERS. - - - I. - - O brown lark, loving cloud-land best - And sun-smit seas of sky, - Thee does a musical unrest - Drive to rise upward from thy nest - Far fathoms high. - - - II. - - O fluid-fluting blackbird, keep - The midnight of thy wing - Close to my home where leaves grow deep, - Since where two lovers lie asleep - Thou lovest to sing. - - MORTIMER COLLINS. - - - - - DAWN. - - - Dawn, with flusht foot upon the mountain tops, - Stands beckoning to the Sun-god’s golden car, - While on her high clear brow the morning star - Grows fainter, as the silver-misty copse - And rosy river-bend and village white - Feel the strong shafts of light. - - The tide of dreams has reached its utter ebb; - The joy of Dawn is in my Lady’s eyes, - Where at her window with a half-surprise - She sees the meadows meshed with fairy web, - And hears the happy skylark, far above, - Singing, _I live! I love!_ - - MORTIMER COLLINS. - - - - - LOVE’S POWER. - - - The fire is smouldering while the daylight wanes; - Rain taps impatient on the window-panes; - The waves roll high, and the cold wind complains. - The wind complains. - - Reluctant start the embers to a blaze; - Among the ashy drifts the red coal plays; - In fairy rings the circling smoke delays. - The smoke delays. - - Ah, lonely life! it is the wind’s sad cry; - Ah, only life! calls Echo, floating by; - Ah, love is life! it is my heart’s reply. - My heart’s reply. - - Burn low, ye fires that on the hearthstone play! - Beat out your life, O waves in dashing spray! - My heart chants not your monotone to-day. - Oh, not to-day! - - I hear no dirge, I see no ashes gray-- - Love! love! love! love! its rapture fills the day! - The winter brings to me the bloom of May. - The bloom of May. - - LYDIA AVERY COONLEY. - - - - - LAST NIGHT MY LADY TALKED WITH ME. - - - Last night my lady talked with me, - As on a green hill I and she - Sat close, where erst alone I stood - Beneath the dusk-leaved ilex-wood. - - The earth was gathered to her rest, - Sweet silence lay upon her breast, - Well-nigh asleep, save that she heard - The wandering waters’ silver word. - - The sun had kissed the earth’s dark lips - That grow so ruddy ere he dips, - Wine-coloured to his golden rim, - As purple evening pours for him. - - Low stooped his head, as he would drink, - Till out of sight we saw him sink, - And with his splendour in our eyes, - Full-orbed we watched the great moon rise. - - Rose-tinged in the dim sky shone she - Like Venus from the opal sea, - So grew her glory in our sight, - Till in her face we saw love’s light, - - Love’s light in hers, like flame on flame,-- - Yea, very Love in presence came, - Between the fires of moon and sun, - He stood, like dawn ere night begun. - - Clear-aureoled his golden head, - His eyes our burning hearts well read, - And in the sanctuary of my soul - I won of love the golden goal. - - WALTER CRANE. - - - - - LOVE’S ARROWS. - - - I saw young Love make trial of his bow, - In May’s green garden where he shot his dart, - Nor recked if any nigh beheld his art, - But other eyes did mark him as I know; - For my sweet lady sate anear his throw, - And I with her, and joinèd heart to heart, - So that we might not feel the bitter smart - Love leaveth there when time doth force us go. - - We heard Love’s arrows falling in the grass, - Or watched them quiver in the targe below; - Yet few to us came nigh, nor might they pass - Beyond our feet, which trembled when they came, - Whose hearts were not the quarry for his aim, - That in Love’s chase fell stricken long ago. - - WALTER CRANE. - - - - - A LOVE SONG. - - FROM THE FRENCH OF ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE. - - - Time with his jealous icy blast - Will wither all your charms, like sweet flowers past - And dead in winter’s tomb; - Till soft, red lips are kissless, and the joy - They now can give, tho’ now, alas, too coy, - Has perish’d with their bloom. - - Yet when your eyes, veil’d in a cloud of tears, - Shall mourn the rigour of the fleeting years, - And see each grace depart, - When in the past, as in a stream, you gaze, - And seek the lovely form of other days, - Look rather in my heart; - - There will your beauty flourish years untold, - There will my loyalty watch you as of old, - And keep you still the same; - Just as a golden lamp some holy maid - Might shelter with her hand, while thro’ the shade - She bears the trembling flame. - - Oh, when Death smiling comes, as come he must, - And shatters our twin torches in the dust, - A stronger love shall bloom; - Then shall my last sweet resting-place be thine, - And your soft hand clasp’d tenderly in mine, - In our last bed, the tomb. - - Or, rather, darling, let us fly away, - Just as upon some glorious autumn day - Two loving swans might rise, - And, still caressing, leave their wonted nest, - And seek for brighter lands, and climes more blest, - And fuller, deeper skies! - - HARRY CURWEN. - - - - - THE PARTING HOUR. - - - Not yet, dear love, not yet: the sun is high; - You said last night, “At sunset I will go.” - Come to the garden, where, when blossoms die, - No word is spoken; it is better so: - Ah! bitter word, “Farewell.” - - Hark how the birds sing sunny songs of spring! - Soon they will build, and work will silence them; - So we grow less light-hearted as years bring - Life’s grave responsibilities--and then - The bitter word “Farewell.” - - The violets fret to fragrance ’neath your feet, - Heaven’s gold sunlight dreams aslant your hair: - No flower for me! your mouth is far more sweet. - Oh, let my lips forget, while lingering there, - Love’s bitter word “Farewell.” - - * * * * * - - Sunset already! have we sat so long? - The parting hour, and so much left unsaid! - The garden has grown silent--void of song, - Our sorrow shakes us with a sudden dread! - Ah! bitter word “Farewell.” - - OLIVE CUSTANCE. - - - - - THE SUNDIAL. - - - ’Tis an old dial, dark with many a stain; - In summer crowned with drifting orchard-bloom, - Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain, - And white in winter like a marble tomb; - - And round about its gray, time-eaten brow - Lean letters speak--a worn and shattered row; - _I am a Shade: a Shadow too arte thou: - I marke the Time: saye, Gossip, dost thou soe?_ - - Here would the ringdoves linger, head to head; - And here the snail a silver course would run, - Beating old Time; and here the peacock spread - His gold-green glory, shutting out the sun. - - The tardy shade moved forward to the noon; - Betwixt the paths a dainty Beauty stept, - That swung a flower, and, smiling, hummed a tune,-- - Before whose feet a barking spaniel leapt. - - O’er her blue dress an endless blossom strayed, - About her tendril-curls the sunlight shone; - And round her train the tiger-lilies swayed, - Like courtiers bowing till the queen be gone. - - She leaned upon the slab a little while, - Then drew a jewelled pencil from her zone, - Scribbled a something with a frolic smile, - Folded, inscribed, and niched it in the stone. - - The shade slipped on, no swifter than the snail; - There came a second lady in the place, - Dove-eyed, dove-robed, and something wan and pale-- - An inner beauty shining from her face. - - She, as if listless with a lonely love, - Straying among the alleys with a book,-- - Herrick or Herbert,--watched the circling dove, - And spied the tiny letter in the nook. - - Then, like to one who confirmation found - Of some dread secret half accounted true,-- - Who knew what hands and hearts the letter bound, - And argued loving commerce ’twixt the two, - - She bent her fair young forehead on the stone, - The dark shade gloomed an instant on her head; - And ’twixt her taper fingers pearled and shone - The single tear that tear-worn eyes will shed. - - The shade slipped onward to the falling gloom; - There came a soldier gallant in her stead, - Swinging a beaver with a swaling plume, - A ribboned love-lock rippling from his head; - - Blue-eyed, frank-faced, with clear and open brow, - Scar-seamed a little, as the women love; - So kindly fronted that you marvel how - The frequent sword-hilt had so frayed his glove; - - Who switched at Psyche plunging in the sun; - Uncrowned three lilies with a backward swinge; - And standing somewhat widely, like to one - More used to “Boot and Saddle” than to cringe - - As courtiers do, but gentleman withal, - Took out the note; held it as one who feared - The fragile thing he held would slip and fall; - Read and re-read, pulling his tawny beard; - - Kissed it, I think, and hid it in his breast; - Laughed softly in a flattered happy way, - Arranged the broidered baldrick on his chest, - And sauntered past, singing a roundelay. - - * * * * * - - The shade crept forward through the dying glow; - There came no more nor dame nor cavalier; - But for a little time the brass will show - A small gray spot--the record of a tear. - - AUSTIN DOBSON. - - - - - SPRING SONG. - - - Herald of peace and joy, - Lone on the bough; - Minstrel without alloy. - What flutest thou? - - Violet, hiding low, - Fragrant and shy, - What message bearest thou - Voiced in thy sigh? - - Buds that unloose your hasp - Long cased in mail, - Wrest from grim Winter’s grasp, - Freed from his pale; - - Brooklets, swift hurrying, - Purling your chime. - What is the theme ye sing - Endless as Time? - - “We sing the sun,” they say, - “We sing the spring; - Love crowns our holyday, - Love is our king.” - - E’en so the thought of Thee - Rapture doth bring, - Yielding delight to me - Dearer than spring; - - Blither than robin’s strain, - Fairer than flowers; - Fresh as the vernal rain, - Bright as the hours. - - Thy smile my sun, I ween, - Thine eyes my May: - All thy sweet grace, my Queen, - Fondly, I pray, - - Grant me to keep and hold - Fast in love’s shrine,-- - Spring may no joys unfold - Art thou not mine! - - GEORGE H. ELLWANGER. - - - - - TO JESSIE’S DANCING FEET. - - - How, as a spider’s web is spun - With subtle grace and art, - Do thy light footsteps, every one, - Cross and recross my heart! - Now here, now there, and to and fro, - Their winding mazes turn; - Thy fairy feet so lightly go - They seem the earth to spurn. - Yet every step leaves there behind - A something, when you dance, - That serves to tangle up my mind - And all my soul entrance. - - How, as the web the spiders spin - And wanton breezes blow, - Thy soft and filmy laces in - A swirl around thee flow! - The cobweb ’neath thy chin that’s crossed - Remains demurely put, - While those are ever whirled and tossed - That show thy saucy foot: - That show the silver grayness of - Thy stocking’s silken sheen, - And mesh of snowy skirts above - The silver that is seen. - - How, as the spider from his web - Dangles in light suspense, - Do thy sweet measures’ flow and ebb - Sway my enraptured sense! - Thy flutt’ring lace, thy dainty airs, - Thy every charming pose-- - There are not more alluring snares - To bind me with than those. - Swing on! Sway on! With easy grace - Thy witching steps repeat! - The love I dare not--to thy face-- - I offer at thy feet. - - W. D. ELLWANGER. - - - - - A LOVE SONG. - - - Oh, to think, oh, to think as I see her stand there - With the rose that I plucked in her glorious hair, - In the robe that I love. - So demure and so neat, - I am lord of her lips and her eyes and her feet. - - Oh, to think, oh, to think when the last hedge is leapt, - When the blood is awakened that dreamingly slept, - I shall make her heart throb - In its cradle of lace, - As the lord of her hair and her breast and her face. - - Oh, to think, oh, to think when our wedding-bells ring, - When our love’s at the summer but life’s at the spring, - I shall guard her asleep - As my hound guards her glove, - Being lord of her life and her heart and her love! - - NORMAN R. GALE. - - - - - A SONG. - - - I will not say my true love’s eyes - Outshine the noblest star; - But in their depth of lustre lies - My peace, my truce, my war. - - I will not say upon her neck - Is white to shame the snow; - For if her bosom hath a speck - I would not have it go. - - My love is as a woman sweet, - And as a woman white; - Who’s more than this is more than meet - For me and my delight. - - NORMAN R. GALE. - - - - - A NOCTURNE. - - - Keen winds of cloud and vaporous drift - Disrobe yon star, as ghosts that lift - A snowy curtain from its place, - To scan a pillowed beauty’s face. - - They see her slumbering splendours lie - Bedded on blue unfathomed sky, - And swoon for love and deep delight, - And stillness falls on all the night. - - RICHARD GARNETT. - - - - - VIOLETS. - - - Cold blows the wind against the hill, - And cold upon the plain; - I sit me by the bank, until - The violets come again. - - Here sat we when the grass was set - With violets shining through, - And leafing branches spread a net - To hold a sky of blue. - - The trumpet clamoured from the plain, - The cannon rent the sky; - I cried, O Love, come back again, - Before the violets die! - - But they are dead upon the hill, - And he upon the plain; - I sit me by the bank, until - My violets come again. - - RICHARD GARNETT. - - - - - A YEAR. - - - When the hot wasp hung in the grape last year, - And tendrils withered and leaves grew sear, - There was little to hope and nothing to fear, - And the smouldering autumn sank apace, - And my heart was hollow and cold and drear. - - When the last gray moth that November brings - Had folded its sallow and sombre wings, - Like the tuneless voice of a child that sings, - A music arose in that desolate place, - A broken music of hopeless things. - - But time went by with the month of snows, - And the pulse and tide of that music rose; - As a pain that fades is a pleasure that grows, - So hope sprang up with a heart of grace, - And love as a crocus-bud that blows. - - And now I know when next autumn has dried - The sweet hot juice to the grape-skin’s side, - And the new wasps dart where the old ones died, - My heart will have rest in one luminous face, - And its longing and yearning be satisfied. - - EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE. - - - - - I’VE KISSED THEE, SWEETHEART. - - FROM THE FRENCH OF THÉOPHILE DE VIAU. - - - I’ve kissed thee, sweetheart, in a dream at least, - And though the core of love is in me still, - This joy, that in my sense did softly thrill, - The ardour of my longing hath appeased, - And by this tender strife my spirit, eased, - Can laugh at that sweet theft against thy will, - And, half consoled, I soothe myself until - I find my heart from all its pain released. - My senses, hushed, begin to fall on sleep; - Slumber, for which two weary nights I weep, - Takes thy dear place at last within mine eyes; - And though so cold he is, as all men vow, - For me he breaks his natural icy guise, - And shows himself more warm and fond than thou. - - EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE. - - - - - COMPLAINT. - - - Men, women, call thee so and so; - I do not know. - Thou hast no name - For me, but in my heart a flame - - Burns tireless, ’neath a silver vine; - And round entwine - Its purple girth - All things of fragrance and of worth. - - Thou shout! thou burst of light! thou throb - Of pain! thou sob! - Thou like a bar - Of some sonata, heard from far - - Through blue-hued veils! When in these wise, - To my soul’s eyes - Thy shape appears, - My aching hands are full of tears. - - JOHN GRAY. - - - - - HEART’S DEMESNE. - - - Listen, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes - Made never answer when my eyes did pray, - Than with those quaintest looks of blank surprise. - - But my lovelonging hath devised a way - To mock thy living image, from thy hair - To thy rose toes; and keep thee by alway. - - My garden’s face is, oh! so maidly fair, - With limbs all tapering, and with hues all fresh; - Thine are the beauties all that flourish there. - - Amaranth, fadeless, tells me of thy flesh. - Briar-rose knows thy cheek, the Pink thy pout, - Bunched kisses dangle from the Woodbine mesh. - - I love to loll, when Daisy stars peep out, - And hear the music of my garden dell, - Hollyhock’s laughter and the Sunflower’s shout,-- - And many whisper things I dare not tell. - - JOHN GRAY. - - - - - IN THE EVENING. - - FROM THE ITALIAN OF COUNTESS LARA. - - - I sit alone and watch the cinders glare, - Or hear the pine-logs crackling sharp and low. - I wait him still; he went not long ago, - Humming a tune, his cigarette aflare. - - He was called out by some most grave affair; - His friends, on cards intent, would have it so; - Or some new singer’s style he fain would know, - Who with false graces mars a grand old air. - - And for such things as these he stays away, - Till midnight passes, and, at one, the bell - Booms from the neighbouring church its single flight; - - Then gaily he returns, and half in play - Kisses me lightly, asks if I am well, - And never dreams that I have wept all night. - - G. A. GREENE. - - - - - WHEN THE LEAVES FALL IN AUTUMN. - - FROM THE ITALIAN OF LORENZO STECCHETTI. - - - When the leaves fall in autumn, and you go - To seek the cross that marks my lonely grave, - In that far corner where they laid me low - The nodding wild-flowers o’er my bones shall wave. - - Oh, pluck you then, to deck your golden hair, - The flowers born of my heart which blossom there: - - They are the songs I dreamed, but ne’er have sung, - The words of love you heard not on my tongue. - - G. A. GREENE. - - - - -“QUI SAIT AIMER, SAIT MOURIR.” - - - “I burn my soul away!” - So spake the Rose and smiled; “within my cup - All day the sunbeams fall in flame, all day - They drink my sweetness up!” - - “I sigh my soul away!” - The Lily said; “all night the moonbeams pale - Steal round and round me, whispering in their play - An all too tender tale!” - - “I give my soul away!” - The Violet said; “the West wind wanders on, - The North wind comes; I know not what they say, - And yet my soul is gone!” - - O Poet, burn away - Thy fervent soul! fond Lover at the feet - Of her thou lovest, sigh! dear Christian, pray, - And let the world be sweet! - - DORA GREENWELL. - - - - - SONG. - - - If love were like a thrush’s song, - Ah me! ah me! - I’d list his tale the whole day long, - Ah me! - I’d never know how time went by, - I’d never guess that time will die; - Rapt in that living ecstasy, - Ah me! ah me! - I’d list a glorious life along - If love were but a thrush’s song. - - But love is fierce and love is fain, - Ah me! ah me! - Love has one bitter sweet refrain, - Ah me! - Love knows of anguish every tone, - Love knows of joy but hope alone, - Love knows of hope that hope is flown, - Ah me! ah me! - Love! poor fierce Love, by storm winds driven, - Love is earth’s vain desire for heaven, - Ah me! - - A. STEPNEY GULSTON. - - - - - O KNIGHT, IF THOU A LADY HAST. - - - O knight, if thou a lady hast, - Gentle and loving, high and true, - Cling to her, live for her, die for her, too, - Swerve not from her while life shall last-- - O knight, if thou a lady hast. - - But if thou, knight, no lady hast, - Kind as courteous, fair as fond, - So grasp the joyless pilgrim’s wand, - Go high, go wide, go far and fast-- - Till thou e’en such a lady hast. - - GERTRUDE HALL. - - - - - AT LAST. - - - When I shall stand before the judgment throne, - At that last hour when all things pass away, - And see beneath me there the vast array - Of souls who wait their life deeds to atone, - And there before the face of God, alone - Appear, and hear His awful voice then say, - “Throughout thy life, until thy dying day, - Is there not any good deed thou hast done?” - - And I shall answer, “Nay, I cannot tell; - But this there is: I loved with all my heart, - Above mine own, one soul; was that not well? - On earth my love brought only bitter smart, - And there I felt the pangs of Thy dread Hell; - From her, my Heaven, bid me not now depart!” - - WILLIAM C. HALL. - - - - - THE OLD IS BETTER. - - - Alone, alone, thro’ the sunny street, - In the shadow of a dream, - The forms and faces I pass and meet - In a mist and darkness seem. - - The old gray houses stand a-row, - Their windows blink and stare, - The sparrows chirp on the lilac bough - From the garden in the square. - - The busy mower whets his scythe, - He hums a cheery rhyme; - The wild bees murmur, and drowse and dive - In the blossom of the lime. - - The forms and faces that come and go, - They flicker and wane and gleam, - As I walk through the streets of long ago - In the shadow of a dream. - - The faces waver and fade away; - While under the lilac bough - Upspringeth the aspect, bright and gay, - Of a face I used to know. - - I see her stand, and she calls my name, - And my heart and pulses glow - As the old life starts like a buried flame, - And the new life flickers low. - - The present darkens and faints and fades, - And the old-loved smiles shine through; - The living wander, like ghostly shades, - And the lost are born anew. - - And my soul with the joy of its calm is rife, - As I bask in my after-glow, - For I loved my love, and I lived my life - In the days of long ago. - - MARY L. HANKIN. - - - - - BALLADE OF MIDSUMMER DAYS AND NIGHTS. - - - With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams - The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise, - And the winds are one with the clouds and beams-- - Midsummer days! midsummer days! - The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze, - While the west from a rapture of sunset rights, - Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise-- - Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights! - - The wood’s green heart is a nest of dreams, - The lush grass thickens and springs and sways, - The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams-- - Midsummer days! midsummer days! - In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways, - All secret shadows and mystic lights, - Late lovers murmurous linger and gaze-- - Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights! - - There’s a music of bells from the trampling teams, - Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze, - The rich ripe rose as with incense steams-- - Midsummer days! midsummer days! - A soul from the honeysuckle strays, - And the nightingale as from prophet heights, - Sings to the Earth of her million Mays-- - Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights! - - And it’s O! for my dear and the charm that stays-- - Midsummer days! midsummer days! - It’s O! for my Love and the dark that plights-- - Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights! - - W. E. HENLEY. - - - - - OH, GATHER ME THE ROSE. - - - Oh, gather me the rose, the rose, - While yet in flower we find it, - For summer smiles, but summer goes, - And winter waits behind it. - - For with the dream foregone, foregone, - The deed forborne forever, - The worm regret will canker on, - And time will turn him never. - - So well it were to love, my love, - And cheat of any laughter - The fate beneath us and above, - The dark before and after. - - The myrtle and the rose, the rose, - The sunshine and the swallow, - The dream that comes, the wish that goes, - The memories that follow! - - W. E. HENLEY. - - - - - HER DREAM. - - - Fold your arms around me, Sweet, - As against your heart my heart doth beat. - - Kiss me, Love, till it fade,--the fright - Of the dreadful dream I dreamt last night. - - Oh, thank God, it is you, it is you, - My own love, fair and strong and true. - - We two are the same that, yesterday, - Played in the light and tost the hay. - - My hair you stroke, O dearest one, - Is alive with youth and bright with the sun. - - Tell me again, Love, how I seem - “The prettiest queen of curds and cream.” - - Fold me close and kiss me again; - Kiss off the shadow of last night’s pain. - - I dreamt last night, as I lay in bed, - That I was old and that you were dead. - - I knew you had died long time ago, - And I well recalled the moan and woe. - - You had died in your beautiful youth, my sweet; - You had gone to your rest with untired feet; - - And I had prayed to come to you, - To lay me down and slumber too. - - But it might not be, and the days went on, - And I was all alone, alone. - - The women came so neighbourly, - And kissed my face and wept with me; - - And the men stood still to see me pass, - And smiled grave smiles, and said, “_Poor lass!_” - - Sometimes I seemed to hear your feet, - And my grief-numbed heart would wildly beat; - - And I stopt and named my darling’s name-- - But never a word of answer came. - - The men and women ceased at last - To pity pain that was of the past; - - For pain is common, and grief, and loss; - And many come home by Weeping Cross. - - Why do I tell you this, my dear? - Sorrow is gone now you are here. - - You and I, we sit in the light, - And fled is the horror of yesternight. - - The time went on, and I saw one day - My body was bent and my hair was gray. - - But the boys and girls a-whispering - Sweet tales in the sweet light of the spring, - - Never paused in the tales they told - To say, “_He is dead and she is old_.” - - There’s a place in the churchyard where, I thought, - Long since my lover had been brought; - - It had sunk with years from a high green mound - To a level no stranger would have found; - - But I--I always knew the spot; - How could I miss it, know it not? - - Darling, darling, draw me near, - For I cannot shake off the dread and fear. - - Fold me so close I scarce can breathe; - And kiss me, for, lo, above, beneath, - - The blue sky fades, and the green grass dries, - And the sunshine goes from my lips and eyes. - - O God--that dream--it has not fled-- - _One of us old, and one of us dead_! - - EMILY H. HICKEY. - - - - - SONG. - - - How many lips have uttered one sweet word-- - Ever the sweetest word in any tongue! - How many listening hearts have wildly stirred, - While burning blushes to the soft cheeks sprung, - And dear eyes, deepening with a light divine, - Were lifted up, as thine are now to mine! - - How oft the night, with silence and perfume, - Has hushed the world that heart might speak to heart, - And make in each dim haunt of leafy gloom - A trysting-place where love might meet and part, - And kisses fall unseen on lips and brow, - As on thine, sweet! my kisses linger now! - - CHARLES LOTIN HILDRETH. - - - - - THE TRYST. - - - Sweet as the change from pleasant thoughts to sleep - The silver gloaming melted into gloom, - Then came the evening silence rich and deep, - With mingled breaths of dew-released perfume; - The few first stars shone in the azure pale, - Soft as a young nun’s glances through her veil. - - Was it for darkness that thou waited, sweet? - Ah, though thy face was dusk in night’s eclipse, - Thy heart betrayed thee by its quickened beat! - I needed not the light to find thy lips, - Nor in the balmy hush of even-time, - To hear one word more sweet than any rhyme. - - CHARLES LOTIN HILDRETH. - - - - - BY ONE RAPT DAY. - - - By one rapt day Love doth his harvest mete, - And from dream wings in memory’s light caressed - Fans calms of joy into my burning breast. - It is that day when Love bowed at thy feet, - And all the noontide in a rush of heat - Rippled with whispers of thy love confessed; - And larks afar sank down with sobs of rest, - Finding their carol heights in thee complete. - - The day when, midst the well-known Sussex wood, - Stream music kissed the spirit of the wold - And sang the sun to rest, mingling its gold - With heather-bell and oak, and, rapt in moods - Of melody and shy sweet interludes, - Held our soul’s transport still with joys untold. - - A. ERNEST HINSHELWOOD. - - - - - THE DILEMMA. - - - Now, by the blessed Paphian queen, - Who heaves the breast of sweet sixteen; - By every name I cut on bark - Before my morning star grew dark; - By Hymen’s torch, by Cupid’s dart, - By all that thrills the beating heart; - The bright black eye, the melting blue,-- - I cannot choose between the two. - - I had a vision in my dreams;-- - I saw a row of twenty beams; - From every beam a rope was hung, - In every rope a lover swung; - I asked the hue of every eye - That bade each luckless lover die; - Ten shadowy lips said heavenly blue, - And ten accused the darker hue. - - I asked a matron which she deemed - With fairest light of beauty beamed; - She answered, some thought both were fair,-- - Give her blue eyes and golden hair. - I might have liked her judgment well, - But, as she spoke, she rung the bell, - And all her girls, nor small nor few, - Came marching in,--their eyes were blue. - - I asked a maiden; back she flung - The locks that round her forehead hung, - And turned her eye, a glorious one, - Bright as a diamond in the sun, - On me, until beneath its rays - I felt as if my hair would blaze; - She liked all eyes but eyes of green; - She looked at me, what could she mean? - - Ah! many lids Love lurks between, - Nor heeds the colouring of his screen; - And when his random arrows fly, - The victim falls, but knows not why. - Gaze not upon his shield of jet, - The shaft upon the string is set; - Look not beneath his azure veil, - Though every limb were cased in mail. - - Well both might make a martyr break - The chain that bound him to the stake; - And both with but a single ray - Can melt our very hearts away; - And both, when balanced, hardly seem - To stir the scales, or rock the beam; - But that is dearest, all the while, - That wears for us the sweetest smile. - - OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. - - - - - THE MEASURE. - - - Between the pansies and the rye - Flutters my purple butterfly; - - Between her white brow and her chin, - Does Love his fairy wake begin: - - By poppy-cups and drifts of heather, - Dances the sun and she together. - - But o’er the scarlet of her mouth - Whence those entreated words come forth, - Love hovers all the livelong day, - And cannot, through its spell, away; - But there, where he was born, must die - Between the pansies and the rye. - - HERBERT P. HORNE. - - - - - TWO TRUTHS. - - - “Darling,” he said, “I never meant - To hurt you;” and his eyes were wet. - “I would not hurt you for the world: - Am I to blame if I forget?” - - “Forgive my selfish tears!” she cried, - “Forgive! I knew that it was not - Because you meant to hurt me, sweet,-- - I knew it was that you forgot!” - - But all the same, deep in her heart - Rankled this thought, and rankles yet,-- - “When love is at its best, one loves - So much that he cannot forget.” - - HELEN HUNT. - - - - - A PRAYER. - - - Dear, let me dream of love, - Ah! though a dream it be! - I’ll ask no boon above - A word, a smile from thee: - At most, in some still hour, one kindly thought of me. - - Sweet, let me gaze awhile - Into those radiant eyes! - I’ll scheme not to beguile - The heart, that deeper lies - Beneath them than yon star in night’s pellucid skies. - - Love, let my spirit bow - In worship at thy shrine! - I’ll swear thou shalt not know - One word from lip of mine, - An instant’s pain to send through that shy soul of thine. - - SELWYN IMAGE. - - - - - A JUNE STORM. - - - Sullenly fell the rain while under the oak we stood; - It hissed in the leaves above us, and big drops plashed to the ground, - And a horror of darkness fell over river and field and wood, - Where the trees were huddling together like children scared by a sound. - - Then suddenly rang a note from a wildbird out of the trees - In quick response to a sunbeam, and lo, o’erhead it was fair, - And sweet was the smell of the meadow, and pleasant the hum of the bees, - As we look’d in each other’s eyes--and the raindrops shone in your hair. - - HENRY JENNER. - - - - - DOLCINO TO MARGARET. - - - The world goes up and the world goes down, - And the sunshine follows the rain; - And yesterday’s sneer and yesterday’s frown - Can never come over again, - Sweet wife; - No, never come over again. - - For woman is warm, though man be cold, - And the night will hallow the day; - Till the heart which at even was weary and old - Can rise in the morning gay, - Sweet wife; - To its work in the morning gay. - - CHARLES KINGSLEY. - - - - - A BALLADE OF WAITING. - - - No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wrought - So rich as the arms of my love can be; - No gems with a lovelier lustre fraught - Than her eyes when they answer me liquidly. - Dear lady of love, be kind to me - In days when the waters of hope abate, - And doubt like a shimmer on sand shall be, - In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait. - - Sweet mouth, that the wear of the world hath taught - No glitter of wile or traitorie, - More soft than a cloud in the sunset caught, - Or the heart of a crimson peony; - Oh, turn not its beauty away from me; - To kiss it and cling to it early and late - Shall make sweet minutes of days that flee, - In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait. - - Rich hair, that a painter of old had sought - For the weaving of some soft phantasy, - Most fair when the streams of it run distraught - On the firm sweet shoulders yellowly; - Dear Lady, gather it close to me, - Weaving a nest for the double freight - Of cheeks and lips that are one and free, - For the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait. - - - ENVOY. - - So time shall be swift till thou mate with me, - For love is mightiest next to fate, - And none shall be happier, Love, than we, - In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait. - - ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN. - - - - - A FORECAST. - - - What days await this woman whose strange feet - Breathe spells, whose presence makes men dream like wine, - Tall, free and slender as the forest pine, - Whose form is moulded music, through whose sweet - Frank eyes I feel the very heart’s least beat, - Keen, passionate, full of dreams and fire: - How in the end, and to what man’s desire - Shall all this yield, whose lips shall these lips meet? - - One thing I know: if he be great and pure, - This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure; - Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm: - But if not this, some differing thing he be, - That dream shall break in terror; he shall see - The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm. - - ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN. - - - - - AN OLD TUNE. - - FROM THE FRENCH OF GÉRARD DE NERVAL. - - - There is an air for which I would disown - Mozart’s, Rossini’s, Weber’s melodies,-- - A sweet sad air that languishes and sighs, - And keeps its secret charm for me alone. - - Whene’er I hear that music vague and old, - Two hundred years are mist that rolls away; - The thirteenth Louis reigns, and I behold - A green land golden in the dying day. - - An old red castle, strong with stony towers, - The windows gay with many-coloured glass, - Wide plains, and rivers flowing among flowers, - That bathe the castle basement as they pass. - - In antique weed, with dark eyes and gold hair, - A lady looks forth from her window high; - It may be that I knew and found her fair, - In some forgotten life, long time gone by. - - ANDREW LANG. - - - - - GOOD-BYE. - - - Kiss me, and say good-bye; - Good-bye, there is no word to say but this, - Nor any lips left for my lips to kiss, - Nor any tears to shed, when these tears dry; - Kiss me, and say good-bye. - - Farewell, be glad, forget; - There is no need to say “forget,” I know, - For youth is youth, and time will have it so, - And though your lips are pale, and your eyes wet, - Farewell, you must forget. - - You shall bring home your sheaves, - Many, and heavy, and with blossoms twined - Of memories that go not out of mind; - Let this one sheaf be twined with poppy leaves - When you bring home your sheaves. - - In garnered loves of thine, - The ripe good fruit of many hearts and years, - Somewhere let this lie, gray and salt with tears; - It grew too near the sea wind, and the brine - Of life, this love of mine. - - This sheaf was spoiled in spring, - And over-long was green, and early sear, - And never gathered gold in the late year - From autumn suns, and moons of harvesting, - But failed in frosts of spring. - - Yet was it thine, my sweet, - This love, though weak as young corn withered, - Whereof no man may gather and make bread; - Thine, though it never knew the summer heat;-- - Forget not quite, my sweet. - - ANDREW LANG. - - - - - METEMPSYCHOSIS. - - - I shall not see thee, nay, but I shall know - Perchance, thy gray eyes in another’s eyes, - Shall guess thy curls in gracious locks that flow - On purest brows, yea, and the swift surmise - Shall follow, and track, and find thee in disguise - Of all sad things, and fair, where sunsets glow, - When through the scent of heather, faint and low, - The weak wind whispers to the day that dies. - - From all sweet art, and out of all “old rhyme,” - Thine eyes and lips are light and song to me; - The shadows of the beauty of all time, - Carven and sung are only shapes of thee; - Alas, the shadowy shapes! ah, sweet, my dear, - Shall life or death bring all thy being near? - - ANDREW LANG. - - - - - A BALLADE OF OLD SWEETHEARTS. - - - Who is it that weeps for the last year’s flowers - When the wood is aflame with the fires of spring, - And we hear her voice in the lilac bowers - As she croons the runes of the blossoming? - For the same old blooms do the new years bring, - But not to our lives do the years come so, - New lips must kiss and new bosoms cling.-- - Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago. - - Ah me! for a breath of those morning hours - When Alice and I went a-wandering - Through the shining fields, and it still was ours - To kiss and to feel we were shuddering-- - Ah me! when a kiss was a holy thing.-- - How sweet were a smile from Maud, and oh! - With Phyllis once more to be whispering.-- - Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago. - - But it cannot be that old Time devours - Such loves as was Annie’s and mine we sing, - And surely beneficent heavenly powers - Save Muriel’s beauty from perishing; - And if in some golden evening - To a quaint old garden I chance to go, - Shall Marion no more by the wicket sing?-- - Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago. - - In these lives of ours do the new years bring - Old loves as old flowers again to blow? - Or do new lips kiss and new bosoms cling?-- - Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago. - - RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. - - - - - IN THE MILE-END ROAD. - - - How like her! But ’tis she herself - Comes up the crowded street; - How little did I think, the morn, - My only love to meet! - - Whose else that motion and that mien? - Whose else that airy tread? - For one strange moment I forgot - My only love was dead. - - AMY LEVY. - - - - - 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! - - 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. - - 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! - - W. J. LINTON. - - - - - TO MY MISTRESS. - - - Countess, I see the flying year, - And feel how Time is wasting here: - Ay, more, he soon his worst will do, - And garner all your roses too. - - It pleases Time to fold his wings - Around our best and fairest things; - He’ll mar your blooming cheek, as now - He stamps his mark upon my brow. - - The same mute planets rise and shine - To rule your days and nights as mine: - Once I was young and gay, and see-- - What I am now you soon will be. - - And yet I boast a certain charm - That shields me from your worst alarm; - And bids me gaze, with front sublime, - On all these ravages of Time. - - You boast a gift to charm the eyes, - I boast a gift that Time defies: - For mine will still be mine, and last - When all your pride of beauty’s past. - - My gift may long embalm the lures - Of eyes--ah, sweet to me as yours! - For ages hence the great and good - Will judge you as I choose they should. - - In days to come the peer or clown, - With whom I still shall win renown, - Will only know that you were fair - Because I chanced to say you were. - - Proud Lady! Scornful beauty mocks - At aged heads and silver locks; - But think awhile before you fly, - Or spurn a poet such as I. - - FREDERICK LOCKER. - - - - - IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY. - - - The sun is bright,--the air is clear, - The darting swallows soar and sing, - And from the stately elms I hear - The bluebird prophesying spring. - - So blue yon winding river flows, - It seems an outlet from the sky, - Where waiting till the west-wind blows, - The freighted clouds at anchor lie. - - All things are new,--the buds, the leaves, - That gild the elm-tree’s nodding crest, - And even the nest beneath the eaves;-- - There are no birds in last year’s nest! - - All things rejoice in youth and love, - The fulness of their first delight! - And learn from the soft heavens above - The melting tenderness of night. - - Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme, - Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; - Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, - For O, it is not always May! - - Enjoy the spring of Love and Youth, - To some good angel leave the rest; - For Time will teach thee soon the truth, - There are no birds in last year’s nest. - - HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. - - - - - ET MELLE ET FELLE. - - - What hast thou done to me, - Girl, with the dream in thine eyes? - Brightened the sun to me, - Lightened the skies; - Made there be one to me, - One only sun to me - Not in the skies. - - What hast thou done to me, - Girl, with the dream in thine eyes? - Darkened the sun to me, - Blackened the skies; - Made there be none to me, - Nor star nor sun to me, - Only black skies. - - LOVE IN A MIST. - - - - - A SONG OF LOVE. - - - If in thine eyes - I saw that softer light - That in the skies - Doth herald spring’s delight, - Ah, love, how loud my heart should sing, - Ev’n as the blackbird to the spring! - - If on thy cheek - I saw that warm hue play - That doth bespeak - The dawn of a new day, - Ah, love, how like the lark should rise - My soul in rapture to the skies! - - If from thy mouth - I heard such whisper low - As from the South - Doth through the pine-woods blow, - How should my whole soul murmur through - With music, as the pine-woods do! - - LOVE LIES BLEEDING. - - - - - THE LONELY LANDSCAPE. - - - The place again-- - The wooded heights--the widening plain-- - The whispering pines--the dry-leaved oaks, too young - To cast their dead dreams ere the new be sprung! - - What profits it - Alone on this prone slope to sit - Where thou didst press the heath,--and see how dun - The landscape seems, lit only by the sun? - - Yet, ah! not vain - To visit thy fair haunts again-- - To trace thy footsteps by the upturned stone, - And conjure back thy looks, thy words, thy tone! - - Like music fine - That simple seeming speech of thine - Hath in it soft harmonics, only heard - When from the memory fades the uttered word. - - And to mine eyes - Undazzled by thyself, doth rise - An image lovelier and more like to thee - Than even thy bodily self which sight can see. - - Ah! The wind shakes - The withered leaves, and Love awakes, - And to the vacant landscape cries in vain: - “Ah, heaven! to have her at my side again!” - - LOVE LIES BLEEDING. - - - - - THE OUTCAST. - - - Thou wilt come back again, but not for me, - Fair little face! - Thou wilt come back, but, ah! I may not see - That day of grace. - - No sword is at the Eden’s gate I leave; - But viewless hands - Have thrust me into endless night, to grieve - In loveless lands. - - Thou wilt come back: thy footsteps make the spring, - And birds sing round; - But I, in wilderness wandering, - Shall hear no sound; - - Save as far off the traveller athirst - In desert lands, - Hears waters that he may not reach, accursed - In endless sands. - - LOVE LIES BLEEDING. - - - - - AUF WIEDERSEHEN! - - - SUMMER. - - The little gate was reached at last, - Half hid in lilacs down the lane; - She pushed it wide, and, as she past, - A wistful look she backward cast, - And said,--“_Auf wiedersehen!_” - - With hand on latch, a vision white - Lingered reluctant, and again - Half doubting if she did aright, - Soft as the dews that fell that night, - She said,--“_Auf wiedersehen!_” - - The lamp’s clear gleam flits up the stair; - I linger in delicious pain; - Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air - To breathe in thought I scarcely dare, - Thinks she,--“_Auf wiedersehen!_” - - ’Tis thirteen years; once more I press - The turf that silences the lane; - I hear the rustle of her dress, - I smell the lilacs, and--ah, yes, - I hear “_Auf wiedersehen!_” - - Sweet piece of bashful maiden art! - The English words had seemed too fain, - But these--they drew us heart to heart, - Yet held us tenderly apart; - She said,--“_Auf wiedersehen!_” - - - PALINODE. - - - AUTUMN. - - Still thirteen years: ’tis autumn now - On field and hill, in heart and brain; - The naked trees at evening sough; - The leaf to the forsaken bough - Sighs not,--“We meet again!” - - Two watched yon oriole’s pendent dome, - That now is void, and dank with rain, - And one,--O, hope more frail than foam! - The bird to his deserted home - Sings not,--“We meet again!” - - The loath gate swings with rusty creak; - Once, parting there, we played at pain; - There came a parting, when the weak - And fading lips essayed to speak - Vainly,--“We meet again!” - - Somewhere is comfort, somewhere faith, - Though thou in outer dark remain; - One sweet sad voice ennobles death, - And still for eighteen centuries saith - Softly,--“Ye meet again!” - - If earth another grave must bear, - Yet heaven hath won a sweeter strain, - And something whispers my despair, - That, from an orient chamber there, - Floats down, “We meet again!” - - JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. - - - - - SEQUEL TO “MY QUEEN.” - - - Yes, but the years run circling fleeter, - Ever they pass me--I watch, I wait-- - Ever I dream, and awake to meet her; - She cometh never, or comes too late. - - Should I press on? for the day grows shorter-- - Ought I to linger? the far end nears; - Ever ahead have I looked, and sought her - On the bright sky-line of the gathering years. - - Now that the shadows are eastward sloping, - As I screen mine eyes from the slanting sun, - Cometh a thought--It is past all hoping, - Look not ahead, she is missed and gone. - - Here on the ridge of my upward travel - Ere the life-line dips to the darkening vales, - Sadly I turn, and would fain unravel - The entangled maze of a search that fails. - - When and where have I seen and passed her? - What are the words I forgot to say? - Should we have met had a boat rowed faster? - Should we have loved had I stayed that day? - - Was it her face that I saw, and started, - Gliding away in a train that crossed? - Was it a form that I once, faint-hearted, - Followed awhile in a crowd, and lost? - - Was it there she lived, when the train went sweeping - Under the moon through the landscape hushed? - Somebody called me, I woke from sleeping, - Saw but a hamlet--and on we rushed. - - Listen and linger--She yet may find me - In the last faint flush of the waning light-- - Never a step on the path behind me; - I must journey alone, to the lonely night. - - But is there somewhere on earth, I wonder, - A fading figure, with eyes that wait, - Who says, as she stands in the distance yonder, - “He cometh never, or comes too late”? - - SIR ALFRED LYALL. - - - - - IF ...? - - - So you but love me, be it your own way, - In your own time, no sooner than you will, - No warmer than you would from day to day, - But love me still! - - Each day that still you love me seems to me - A little fairer than the day before; - For, daily given, love’s least must daily be - A little more. - - And be my most gain’d your least given, if such - Your sweet will be! I reckon not the cost, - Nor count the gain, by little or by much, - Or least or most. - - Little or much, to me the gift I crave - Is all in all. There is not any measure - Of more or less can gauge the need I have - Of that dear treasure. - - So you but love me, tho’ your love be cold, - Mine it can chill not. Tho’ your love come late, - Mine for its coming, by sweet dreams foretold, - Will dreaming wait. - - Yet ah, if some fair chance, before I die, - One hour of waking life might let me live, - Rich with the dream’d-of dear reality - ’Tis yours to give! - - Your whole sweet self, with your sweet self’s whole love! - Those eyes of fire and dew, those lips wish-haunted, - Those feet whose steps like elfin music move - Thro’ worlds enchanted! - - Your whole sweet self! The unutter’d thoughts that stir - Your lonest musings with light wings unheard, - And feelings that find no interpreter - In deed or word! - - Your whole sweet self, that till by love reveal’d - Even to yourself still half unknown must be! - For of the wealth in souls like yours conceal’d - Love keeps the key. - - Ah, if your whole sweet self, by all the power - Of your sweet self’s whole love in some divine - Far distant hour made wholly yours, that hour - Made wholly mine, - - And if in that blest hour all dreams came true, - All doubts dissolved, all fears were whirl’d away - In one wild storm of tendernesses new - As time’s first day, - - What should we both be? Hush! I do not dare - Even to hear my own heart’s whisper utter’d. - Be its sole answerer the silent air - This sigh has flutter’d! - - ROBERT, LORD LYTTON. - - - - - OMENS AND ORACLES. - - - All the phantoms of the future, all the spectres of the past, - In the wakeful night came round me, sighing, crying, “Fool, beware! - Check the feeling o’er thee stealing! Let thy first love be thy last! - Or, if love again thou must, at least this fatal love forbear!” - _Marah Amara!_ - - Now the dark breaks. Now the lark wakes. Now their voices fleet away. - And the breeze about the blossom, and the ripple in the reed, - And the beams and buds and birds begin to whisper, sing, or say, - “Love her, love her, for she loves thee!” And I know not which to heed. - _Cara Amara!_ - - ROBERT, LORD LYTTON. - - - - - THE GARDEN OF MEMORY. - - - There is a certain garden where I know - That flowers flourish in a poet’s spring, - Where aye young birds their amorous matins sing, - And never ill wind comes, nor any snow. - - But if you wonder where so fair a show, - Where such eternal pleasure may be seen, - I say, my memory keeps that garden green, - Wherein I loved my first love long ago. - - JUSTIN HUNTLY MCCARTHY. - - - - - IF I WERE A MONK, AND THOU WERT A NUN. - - - If I were a monk, and thou wert a nun, - Pacing it wearily, wearily, - From chapel to cell till day were done - Wearily, wearily, - Oh! how would it be with these hearts of ours, - That need the sunshine and smiles and flowers? - - To prayer, to prayer, at the matins’ call, - Morning foul or fair; - Such prayer as from lifeless lips may fall-- - Words, but hardly prayer; - Vainly trying the thoughts to raise - Which in the sunshine would burst in praise. - - Thou, in the glory of cloudless noon, - The God revealing, - Turning thy face from the boundless boon, - Painfully kneeling; - Or in thy chamber’s still solitude, - Bending thy head o’er the legend rude. - - I, in a cool and lonely nook, - Gloomily, gloomily, - Poring over some musty book - Thoughtfully, thoughtfully; - Or on the parchment margin unrolled, - Painting quaint pictures in purple and gold. - - Perchance in slow procession to meet, - Wearily, wearily; - In an antique, narrow, high-gabled street, - Wearily, wearily; - Thy dark eyes lifted to mine, and then - Heavily sinking to earth again. - - Sunshine and air! warmness and spring! - Merrily, merrily! - Back to its cell each weary thing, - Wearily, wearily! - And the heart so withered and dry and old, - Most at home in the cloister cold. - - Thou on thy knees at the vespers’ call, - Wearily, wearily; - I looking up on the darkening wall, - Wearily, wearily; - The chime so sweet to the boat at sea, - Listless and dead to thee and me! - - Then to the lone couch at death of day, - Wearily, wearily; - Rising at midnight again to pray - Wearily, wearily; - And if through the dark those eyes looked in, - Sending them far as a thought of sin. - - And then when thy spirit was passing away, - Dreamily, dreamily; - The earth-born dwelling returning to clay, - Sleepily, sleepily; - Over thee held the crucified Best, - But no warm face to thy cold cheek pressed. - - And when my spirit was passing away, - Dreamily, dreamily; - The gray head lying ’mong ashes gray - Sleepily, sleepily; - No hovering angel-woman above - Waiting to clasp me in deathless love. - - But now, beloved, thy hand in mine, - Peacefully, peacefully; - My arm around thee, my lips on thine, - Lovingly, lovingly,-- - Oh! is not a better thing to us given - Than wearily going alone to heaven? - - GEORGE MACDONALD. - - - - - A BALLADE OF COLOURS. - - - She went with morning down the wood - Between the green and blue; - The sunlight on the grass was good, - And all the year was new. - - There Love came o’er the flowers to her, - A goodly sight to see - From crownèd hair to wing-feather; - “Arise and come with me.” - - She walked with him in Paradise - Between the white and red, - With Love’s own kiss between her eyes, - Love’s crown upon her head. - - Why two in heaven should not be thus - For ever, who may know? - Love spread his wings most glorious; - “Arise,” he said, “I go.” - - She came and sate down silently - Between the gray and gray; - The wet wind beat the leafless tree, - And Love was gone away. - - The woodland breaks to flower anew, - The days bring back the year; - But how am I to comfort you, - My dear, my dear, my dear? - - J. W. MACKAIL. - - - - - MY AMAZON. - - - I. - - My Love is a lady fair and free, - A lady fair from over the sea, - And she hath eyes that pierce my breast - And rob my spirit of peace and rest. - - - II. - - A youthful warrior, warm and young, - She takes me prisoner with her tongue; - Aye! and she keeps me--on parole-- - Till paid the ransom of my soul. - - - III. - - I swear the foeman, arm’d for war - From _cap-à-pie_, with many a scar, - More mercy finds for prostrate foe - Than she who deals me never a blow. - - - IV. - - And so ’twill be, this many a day; - She comes to wound, if not to slay. - But in my dreams--in honeyed sleep-- - ’Tis I to smile, and she to weep! - - ERIC MACKAY. - - - - - CHANGED LOVE. - - - When did the change come, dearest Heart of mine, - Whom Love loves so? - When did Love’s moon less brightly seem to shine, - While to and fro, - And soft and slow, - Chill winds began to move in its decline? - - When did the change come, thou who wast mine own? - When heard the rose - First far-off winds begin to moan, - At sunset’s close, - When sad Love goes - About the autumn woods to brood alone? - - When did the change come in thy heart, sweetheart,-- - Thy heart so dear to me? - In what thing did I fail to bear my part,-- - My part to thee, - Whose deity - My soul confesses, and how fair thou art? - - Alas for poor changed Love! We cannot say - What changes Love. - My love would not suffice to make your day - Now gladly move, - Though kisses strove - With answering kisses, in Love’s sweetest way. - - But though I know you changed, right well I know - That should we meet, - Deep in your heart some love for me would glow; - Though not that heat - Which made it beat - So fast with joy two years--_one_ year ago. - - PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. - - - - - SUMMER’S RETURN. - - - Once more I walk mid summer days, as one - Returning to the place where first he met - The face that he till death may not forget; - I know the scent of roses just begun, - And how at evening and at morn the sun - Falls on the places that remember yet - What feet last year within their bounds were set, - And what sweet things were said and dreamt and done. - The sultry silence of the summer night - Recalls to me the loved voice far away; - Oh, surely I shall see some early day, - In places that last year with love were bright, - The face of her I love, and hear the low, - Sweet troubled music of the voice I know. - - PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. - - - - - MINE. - - - In that tranced hush when sound sank awed to rest, - Ere from her spirit’s rose-red, rose-sweet gate - Came forth to me her royal word of fate, - Did she sigh “Yes,” and droop upon my breast, - While round our rapture, dumb, fixed, unexpressed - By the seized senses, there did fluctuate - The plaintive surges of our mortal state, - Tempering the poignant ecstasy too blest. - - Do I wake into a dream, or have we twain, - Lured by soft wiles to some unconscious crime, - Dared joys forbid to man? Oh, Light supreme, - Upon our brows transfiguring glory rain, - Nor let the sword of thy just angel gleam - On two who entered heaven before their time! - - WESTLAND MARSTON. - - - - - AUBADE. - - - When fair Hyperion dons his night attire, - Purple and silver, and his eyes with sleep - Go trembling, and the lids a-kissing keep, - And up he wings the plains of heaven the higher - The starry meadows all uncurl and creep - With twinkling shoots that tremble out and leap - From buds into a blossoming of fire. - - When Spring, with primrose fillet round her brows, - Drifts on the dawn into the hyacinth west, - And flings fresh handfuls hoarded in her nest - Of tasty flowers, to Flora making vows, - The snow leaps down the mountain-side, and, press’d - With weight of leaves, the earth at happiest, - Rills into rivers thick from blossom-boughs. - - When Liris comes sometime at break of day - To take the vervain garlands from the door, - I’ve hung there fresh with dew an hour before, - And chances with soft eyes to look my way, - My heart brims out with love, and crowding o’er, - The passion-songs and rhythms spring and pour, - As storms in June, or blossom-boughs in May. - - THEO. MARZIALS. - - - - - THE PHIAL AND THE PHILTRE. - - - My lady has a casket cut - In scarlet coral, crimson-red; - Like Cupid’s bow, to keep it shut, - Two pouting locks are tightenèd, - In cunning curvings chisellèd. - - Some mighty wizard it did make, - So strong that nothing can undo; - And if you thence would treasure take, - You press your lips the clasping to; - The magic word’s “_I love but you!_” - - You’ll find a row of pearls within, - As pure as scarce come from the sea, - And set the rose and crimson in, - Twinkling with sweetest symmetry,-- - I trow most beautiful to see! - - And eke the clasp ’s so cunning wrought, - That as it opens, treble clear, - There comes a music, glib befraught, - Like silver lutes, that to the ear - As sweet love-ditties do appear. - - And there within, as peach and rose, - And pine and plum, most savoury choice, - Elixirs sweet my Lady stows, - To make the saddest heart rejoice, - Or passionate the poet’s voice. - - A rich soul-philtre, that to sip - I swear must be to drain it dry, - And never take away your lip - Till time has toll’d your time to die, - Yet dying, love eternally. - - THEO. MARZIALS. - - - - - NOT I, SWEET SOUL, NOT I. - - - All glorious as the Rainbow’s birth, - She came in Springtide’s golden hours; - When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth, - And May was crowned with buds and flowers. - The mounting devil at my heart - Clomb faintlier, as my life did win - The charmèd heaven she wrought apart, - To wake its better Angel in. - With radiant mien she trode serene, - And passed me smiling by! - Oh! who that looked could help but love? - Not I, sweet soul, not I. - - The dewy eyelids of the Dawn - Ne’er oped such heaven as hers did show: - It seemed her dear eyes might have shone - As jewels in some starry brow. - Her face flashed glory like a shrine - Of lily-bell with sunburst bright, - Where came and went love-thoughts divine, - As low winds walk the leaves in light: - She wore her beauty with the grace - Of Summer’s star-clad sky; - Oh! who that looked could help but love? - Not I, sweet soul, not I. - - Her budding breasts like fragrant fruit - Of love were ripening to be pressed: - Her voice, that shook my heart’s red root, - Might not have broken a Babe’s rest,-- - More liquid than the running brooks, - More vernal than the voice of Spring, - When Nightingales are in their nooks, - And all the leafy thickets ring. - The love she coyly hid at heart - Was shyly conscious in her eye; - Oh! who that looked could help but love? - Not I, sweet soul, not I. - - GERALD MASSEY. - - - - - AT DINNER SHE IS HOSTESS. - - - At dinner she is hostess, I am host. - Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps - The topic over intellectual deeps - In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost. - With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball. - It is in truth a most contagious game: - HIDING THE SKELETON shall be its name. - Such play as this the devils might appall! - But here’s the greater wonder; in that we, - Enamoured of our acting and our wits, - Admire each other like true hypocrites. - Warm lighted glances, Love’s Ephemeræ, - Shoot gaily o’er the dishes and the wine. - We waken envy of our happy lot. - Fast, sweet, and golden, shows our marriage-knot. - Dear guests, you now have seen Love’s corpse-light shine! - - GEORGE MEREDITH. - - - - - LOVE WITHIN THE LOVER’S BREAST. - - - Love within the lover’s breast - Burns like Hesper in the West, - O’er the ashes of the sun, - Till the day and night are done; - Then, when dawn drives up his car-- - Lo! it is the morning star. - - Love! thy love pours down on mine, - As the sunlight on the vine, - As the snow rill on the vale, - As the salt breeze on the sail; - As the song unto the bird - On my lips thy name is heard. - - As a dewdrop on the rose - In thy heart my passion glows; - As a skylark to the sky, - Up into thy breast I fly; - As a sea-shell of the sea - Ever shall I sing of thee. - - GEORGE MEREDITH. - - - - - A DEAD MARCH. - - - Play me a march low-toned and slow,--a march for a silent tread, - Fit for the wandering feet of one who dreams of the silent dead, - Lonely, between the bones below and the souls that are overhead. - - Here for a while they smiled and sang, alive in the interspace, - Here with the grass beneath the foot, and the stars above the face, - Now are their feet beneath the grass, and whither has flown their grace? - - Who shall assure us whence they come or tell us the way they go? - Verily, life with them was joy, and now they have left us, woe. - Once they were not, and now they are not, and this is the sum we know. - - Orderly range the seasons due, and orderly roll the stars. - How shall we deem the soldier brave who frets of his wounds and scars? - Are we as senseless brutes that we should dash at the well-seen bars? - - No, we are here with feet unfixed, but ever as if with lead - Drawn from the orbs which shine above to the orb on which we tread, - Down to the dust from which we came and with which we shall mingle dead. - - No, we are here to wait and work, and strain our banished eyes, - Weary and sick of soil and toil, and hungry and fain for skies - Far from the reach of wingless men and not to be scaled with cries. - - Why do we mourn the days that go,--for the same sun shines each day, - Ever a spring her primrose hath, and ever a May her may,-- - Sweet as the rose that died last year, is the rose that is born to-day. - - Do we not too return, we men, as ever the round earth whirls? - Never a head is dimmed with gray but another is sunned with curls. - She was a girl and he was a boy, but yet there are boys and girls. - - Ah, but alas for the smile of smiles that never but one face wore! - Ah, for the voice that has flown away like a bird to an unseen shore! - Ah, for the face--the flower of flowers--that blossoms on earth no more! - - COSMO MONKHOUSE. - - - - - FAIR STAR THAT ON THE SHOULDER OF YON HILL. - - - Fair star that on the shoulder of yon hill - Peepest, a little eye of tranquil night, - Come forth. Nor sun nor moon there is to kill - Thy ray with broader light. - Shine, star of eve that art so bright and clear; - Shine, little star, and bring my lover here. - - My lover! oh, fair word for maid to hear! - My lover who was yesterday my friend! - Oh, strange we did not know before how near - Our stream of life smoothed to its fated end! - Shine, star of eve, as Love’s self bright and clear; - Shine, little star, and bring my lover here. - - He comes! I hear the echo of his feet. - He comes! I fear to stay, I cannot go. - O Love, that thou art shame-fast, bitter-sweet; - Mingled with pain, and conversant with woe! - Shine, star of eve, more bright as night draws near; - Shine, little star, and bring my lover here. - - LEWIS MORRIS. - - - - - THY SHADOW, O TARDY NIGHT. - - - Thy shadow, O tardy night, - Creeps onward by valley and hill, - And scarce to my streaming sight - Show the white road-reaches still. - O night, stay now a little, little space, - And let me see the light of my beloved’s face! - - My love is late, O night, - And what has kept him away? - For I know that he takes not delight - In the garish joys of day. - Haste, night, dear night, that bring’st my love to me! - What if his footsteps halt and tarry but for thee! - - Nay, what if his footsteps slide - By the swaying bridge of pine, - And whirled seaward by the tide - Is the loved form I counted mine! - O night, dear night, that comest yet dost not come, - How shall I wait the hour that brings my darling home? - - LEWIS MORRIS. - - - - - THE FIRST LYRIC. - - - Love is enough: though the World be a waning - And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, - Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover - The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, - Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, - And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over, - Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter; - The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter - These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover. - - WILLIAM MORRIS. - - - - - THE CONCLUDING LYRIC. - - - Love is enough: ho, ye who seek saving, - Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it, - And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving; - These know the Cup with the roses around it; - These know the World’s wound and the balm that hath bound it: - Cry out, the World heedeth not, “Love, lead us home!” - - He leadeth, he hearkeneth, he cometh to you-ward; - Set your faces as steel to the fears that assemble - Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward: - Lo, his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble! - Lo, his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble! - Cry out, for he heedeth, “O Love, lead us home.” - - Oh, hearken the words of his voice of compassion: - “Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken - Of the weary unrest and the world’s passing fashion! - As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken, - But surely within you some Godhead doth quicken, - As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home. - - “Come--pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending! - Come--fear ye shall have, mid the sky’s over-casting! - Come--change ye shall have, for far are ye wending! - Come--no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting - But the kissed lips of Love and fair life ever-lasting! - Cry out, for one heedeth who leadeth you home!” - - Is he gone? was he with us? ho, ye who seek saving, - Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it? - Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving, - Here is the Cup with the roses around it; - The World’s wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it: - Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home. - - WILLIAM MORRIS. - - - - - BESIDE A BIER. - - - I had never kissed her her whole life long,-- - Now I stand by her bier, does she feel - How with love that the waiting years made strong, - I set on her lips my seal? - - Will she wear my kiss in the grave’s long night, - And wake sometimes with a thrill, - From dreams of the old life’s missed delight, - To feel that the grave is chill? - - “It was warm,” will she say, “in that world above; - It was warm, but I did not know - How he loved me there, with his whole life’s love,-- - It is cold down here below.” - - LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. - - - - - HEREAFTER. - - - In after years a twilight ghost shall fill - With shadowy presence all thy waiting room: - From lips of air thou canst not kiss the bloom; - Yet at old kisses will thy pulses thrill, - And the old longing that thou couldst not kill, - Feeling her presence in the gathering gloom, - Will mock thee with the hopelessness of doom, - While she stands there and smiles, serene and still. - - Thou canst not vex her, then, with passion’s pain: - Call, and the silence will thy call repeat; - But she will smile there, with cold lips and sweet, - Forgetful of old tortures, and the chain - That once she wore, the tears she wept in vain, - At passing from her threshold of thy feet. - - LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. - - - - - FORTUNIO’S SONG. - - FROM THE FRENCH OF ALFRED DE MUSSET. - - - Comrades! in vain ye seek to learn - For whom I burn; - Not for a kingdom would I dare - Her name declare. - - But we will chant in chorus still,-- - If so you will,-- - That she I love is blonde and sweet, - As blades of wheat. - - Whate’er her wayward fancies ask - Becomes my task; - Should she my very life demand, - ’Tis in her hand. - - The pain of passion unrevealed - Can scarce be healed: - Such pain within my heart I bear, - To my despair: - - Nathless I love her all too well - Her name to tell; - And I would sooner die than e’er - Her name declare. - - GEORGE MURRAY. - - - - - SPLENDIDE MENDAX. - - - When God some day shall call my name - And scorch me with a blaze of shame, - Bringing to light my inmost thought - And all the evil I have wrought, - - Tearing away the veils I wove - To hide my foulness from my love, - And leaving my transgressions bare - To the whole heaven’s clear, cold air-- - - When all the angels weep to see - The branded outcast soul of me, - One saint at least will hide her face,-- - She will not look at my disgrace. - - “At least, O God, O God Most High, - He loved me truly!” she will cry, - And God will pause before He send - My soul to find its fitting end. - - Then, lest heaven’s light should leave her face - To think one loved her and was base, - I will speak out at judgment day,-- - “I never loved her!” I will say. - - E. NESBIT. - - - - - THE KISS. - - - The snow is white on wood and wold, - The wind is in the firs, - So dead my heart is with the cold, - No pulse within it stirs, - Even to see your face, my dear, - Your face that was my sun; - There is no spring this bitter year, - And summer’s dreams are done. - - The snakes that lie about my heart - Are in their wintry sleep; - Their fangs no more deal sting and smart, - No more they curl and creep. - Love with the summer ceased to be; - The frost is firm and fast. - God keep the summer far from me, - And let the snakes’ sleep last! - - Touch of your hand could not suffice - To waken them once more; - Nor could the sunshine of your eyes - A ruined spring restore. - But ah--your lips! You know the rest: - The snows are summer rain, - My eyes are wet, and in my breast - The snakes’ fangs meet again. - - E. NESBIT. - - - - - THE MILL. - - - The wheel goes round, the wheel goes round - With drip and whir and plash, - It keeps all green the grassy ground, - The alder, beech, and ash. - The ferns creep out mid mosses cool, - Forget-me-nots are found - Blue in the shadow by the pool-- - And still the wheel goes round. - - Round goes the wheel, round goes the wheel, - The foam is white like cream, - The merry waters dance and reel - Along the stony stream. - The little garden of the mill, - It is enchanted ground, - I smell its stocks and wall-flowers still, - And still the wheel goes round. - - The wheel goes round, the wheel goes round, - And life’s wheel too must go,-- - But all their clamour has not drowned - A voice I used to know. - Her window’s blank. The garden’s bare - As her chill new-made mound, - But still my heart’s delight is there, - And still the wheel goes round. - - E. NESBIT. - - - - - A PASTORAL. - - - My love and I among the mountains strayed, - When heaven and earth in summer heat were still, - Aware anon that at our feet were laid, - Within a sunny hollow of the hill, - A long-haired shepherd lover and a maid. - - They saw nor heard us, who a space above, - With hands clasped close as hers were clasped in his, - Marked how the gentle golden sunlight strove - To play about their leaf-crowned curls, and kiss - Their burnished slender limbs, half-barèd to his love. - - But grave or pensive seemed the boy to grow, - For while upon the grass unfingered lay - The slim twin-pipes, he ever watched with slow - Dream-laden looks the ridge that far away - Surmounts the sleeping midsummer with snow. - - These things we saw; moreover we could hear - The girl’s soft voice of laughter, grown more bold - With the utter noonday silence, sweet and clear: - “Why dost thou think? By thinking one grows old. - Wouldst thou for all the world be old, my dear?” - - Here my love turned to me, but her eyes told - Her thought with smiles before she spoke a word; - And being quick their meaning to behold, - I could not chuse but echo what we heard: - “Sweetheart, wouldst thou for all the world be old?” - - J. B. B. NICHOLS. - - - - - VIGILATE ITAQUE. - - - The restless years that come and go, - The cruel years so swift and slow, - Once in our lives perchance will show - What they can give that we may know; - - Too soon perchance, or else too late; - We may look back or we may wait; - The years are incompassionate, - And who shall touch the robe of fate? - - Once only; haply if we keep - Watch with our lamps and do not sleep, - Our eyes shall, when the night is deep, - Behold the bridegroom’s face,--and weep. - - Alas! for better far it were - That Love were heedless of our prayer - Than that his glory he should bare - And show himself to our despair. - - Better to wander till we die - And never come the door anigh, - Than weeping sore without to lie - And get no answer to our cry. - - O child! the night is cold and blind, - The way is rough with rain and wind, - Narrow and steep and hard to find; - But I have found thee--love, be kind. - - J. B. B. NICHOLS. - - - - - THE HORIZON. - - - Oh, would, oh, would that thou and I, - Now this brief day of love is past, - Could toward the sunset straightway fly, - And fold our wearied wings at last - There, where the sea-line meets the sky. - - A sweet thing and a strange ’twould be - Thus, thus to break our prison bars, - And know that we at last were free - As voiceful waves and silent stars,-- - There, where the sky-line meets the sea. - - But vain the longing! thou and I, - As we have been must ever be, - Yet thither, wind, oh, waft my sigh, - There where the sky-line meets the sea,-- - There where the sea-line meets the sky. - - JAMES ASHCROFT NOBLE. - - - - - SHADOWS. - - - Azure of sky and silver of cloud - In the deep dark water show, - Amber of field and emerald of wood - That were pictured long ago. - - Here, as of old, the beauty above, - And its shadow there below; - Why was their message jubilant then, - And their meaning now but woe? - - Nay, not the same, O fool, as of yore! - These be other leaves that grow, - Other the harvests, other the waves; - Other the breezes that blow. - - Sameness in sooth, but difference too; - And a simple change I know, - Within beholder, without in scene, - It may alter meaning so! - - Shadow of her who looked down with me, - In the depths so long ago-- - Were all your archness glimmering there, - Would the picture breathe but woe? - - JOSEPH O’CONNOR. - - - - - A FAREWELL. - - - Hath any loved you well down there, - Summer or winter through? - Down there, have you found any fair - Laid in the grave with you? - Is death’s long kiss a richer kiss - Than mine was wont to be? - Or have you gone to some far bliss, - And quite forgotten me? - - What soft enamouring of sleep - Hath you in some soft way? - What charmed death holdeth you with deep - Strange lure by night and day? - A little space below the grass, - Out of the sun and shade; - But worlds away from me, alas! - Down there where you are laid! - - My bright hair’s waved and wasted gold, - What is it now to thee - Whether the rose-red life I hold - Or white death holdeth me? - Down there you love the grave’s own green, - And evermore you rave - Of some sweet seraph you have seen - Or dreamed of in the grave. - - There you shall lie as you have lain, - Though in the world above - Another live your life again, - Loving again your love; - Is it not sweet beneath the palm? - Is not the warm day rife - With some long mystic golden calm - Better than love and life? - - The broad quaint odorous leaves, like hands - Weaving the fair day through, - Weave sleep no burnished bird withstands, - While death weaves sleep for you; - And many a strange rich breathing sound - Ravishes morn and noon; - And in that place you must have found - Death a delicious swoon. - - Hold me no longer for a word - I used to say or sing; - Ah! long ago you must have heard - So many a sweeter thing: - For rich earth must have reached your heart, - And turned the faith to flowers; - And warm wind stolen, part by part, - Your soul through faithless hours. - - And many a soft seed must have won - Soil of some yielding thought, - To bring a bloom up to the sun - That else had ne’er been brought; - And doubtless many a passionate hue - Hath made that place more fair, - Making some passionate part of you - Faithless to me down there. - - ARTHUR O’SHAUGHNESSY. - - - - - SONG. - - - Has summer come without the rose, - Or left the bird behind? - Is the blue changed above thee, - O world! or am I blind? - Will you change every flower that grows, - Or only change this spot, - Where she who said, I love thee, - Now says, I love thee not? - - The skies seemed true above thee, - The rose true on the tree; - The bird seemed true the summer through, - But all proved false to me. - World, is there one good thing in you, - Life, love, or death--or what? - Since lips that sang, I love thee, - Have said, I love thee not? - - I think the sun’s kiss will scarce fall - Into one flower’s gold cup; - I think the bird will miss me, - And give the summer up. - O sweet place! desolate in tall - Wild grass, have you forgot - How her lips loved to kiss me - Now that they kiss me not? - - Be false or fair above me, - Come back with any face, - Summer! do I care what you do? - You cannot change one place-- - The grass, the leaves, the earth, the dew, - The grave I make this spot-- - Here, where she used to love me, - Here, where she loves me not. - - ARTHUR O’SHAUGHNESSY. - - - - - SUPREME SUMMER. - - - O heart full of song in the sweet song-weather, - A voice fills each bower, a wing shakes each tree, - Come forth, O winged singer, on song’s fairest feather, - And make a sweet fame of my love and of me. - - The blithe world shall ever have fair loving leisure, - And long is the summer for bird and for bee; - But too short the summer and too keen the pleasure - Of me kissing her and of her kissing me. - - Songs shall not cease of the hills and the heather; - Songs shall not fail of the land and the sea: - But, O heart, if you sing not while we are together, - What man shall remember my love or me? - - Some million of summers hath been and not known her, - Hath known and forgotten loves less fair than she; - But one summer knew her, and grew glad to own her, - And made her its flower, and gave her to me. - - And she and I loving, on earth seem to sever - Some part of the great blue from heaven each day: - I know that the heaven and the earth are for ever, - But that which we take shall with us pass away. - - And that which she gives me shall be for no lover - In any new love-time, the world’s lasting while; - The world, when it looses, shall never recover - The gold of her hair nor the sun of her smile. - - A tree grows in heaven, where no season blanches - Or stays the new fruit through the long golden clime; - My love reaches up, takes a fruit from its branches, - And gives it to me to be mine for all time. - - What care I for other fruits, fed with new fire, - Plucked down by new lovers in fair future line? - The fruit that I have is the thing I desire, - To live of and die of,--the sweet she makes mine. - - And she and I loving, are king of one summer - And queen of one summer to gather and glean: - The world is for us what no fair future comer - Shall find it or dream it could ever have been. - - The earth, as we lie on its bosom, seems pressing - A heart up to bear us and mix with our heart; - The blue, as we wonder, drops down a great blessing - That soothes us and fills us and makes the tears start. - - The summer is full of strange hundredth-year flowers, - That breathe all their lives the warm air of our love, - And never shall know a love other than ours - Till once more some phœnix-star flowers above. - - The silver cloud passing is friend of our loving; - The sea, never knowing this year from last year, - Is thick with fair words, between roaring and soughing, - For her and me only to gather and hear. - - Yea, the life that we lead now is better and sweeter, - I think, than shall be in the world by and bye; - For those days, be they longer or fewer or fleeter, - I will not exchange on the day that I die. - - I shall die when the rose-tree about and above me - Her red kissing mouth seems hath kissed summer through: - I shall die on the day that she ceases to love me-- - But that will not be till the day she dies too. - - Then, fall on us, dead leaves of our dear roses, - And ruins of summer fall on us erelong, - And hide us away where our dead year reposes; - Let all that we leave in the world be--a song. - - And, O song that I sing now while we are together, - Go, sing to some new year of women and men, - How I and she loved in the long loving weather, - And ask if they love on as we two loved then. - - ARTHUR O’SHAUGHNESSY. - - - - - AS ONE WOULD STAND WHO SAW A SUDDEN LIGHT. - - - As one would stand who saw a sudden light - Flood down the world, and so encompass him, - And in that world illumined Seraphim - Brooded above and gladdened to his sight; - So stand I in the flame of one great thought, - That broadens to my soul from where she waits, - Who, yesterday, drew wide the inner gates - Of all my being to the hopes I sought. - Her words come to me like a summer-song, - Blown from the throat of some sweet nightingale; - I stand within her light the whole day long, - And think upon her till the white stars fail: - I lift my head towards all that makes life wise, - And see no farther than my lady’s eyes. - - GILBERT PARKER. - - - - - DEPARTURE. - - - It was not like your great and gracious ways! - Do you, that have nought other to lament, - Never, my Love, repent - Of how, that July afternoon, - You went, - With sudden, unintelligible phrase, - And frighten’d eye, - Upon your journey of so many days, - Without a single kiss, or a good-bye? - I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon; - And so we sate, within the low sun’s rays, - You whispering to me, for your voice was weak, - Your harrowing praise. - Well, it was well, - To hear you such things speak, - And I could tell - What made your eyes a growing gloom of love, - As a warm south-wind sombres a March grove. - And it was like your great and gracious ways - To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear, - Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash - To let the laughter flash, - Whilst I drew near, - Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear. - But all at once to leave me at the last, - More at the wonder than the loss aghast, - With huddled, unintelligible phrase, - And frighten’d eye, - And go your journey of all days - With not one kiss, or a good-bye, - And the only loveless look the look with which you passed: - ’Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways. - - COVENTRY PATMORE. - - - - - CADENCES. - - - MINOR. - - - I. - - The ancient memories buried lie, - And the olden fancies pass; - The old sweet flower-thoughts wither and fly, - And die as the April cowslips die - That scatter the bloomy grass. - - - II. - - All dead, my dear! And the flowers are dead, - And the happy blossoming spring; - The winter comes with its iron tread, - The fields with the dying sun are red, - And the birds have ceased to sing. - - - III. - - I trace the steps on the wasted strand - Of the vanished springtime’s feet: - Withered and dead is our Fairyland, - For Love and Death go hand in hand-- - Go hand in hand, my sweet! - - - MAJOR. - - - I. - - Oh, what shall be the burden of our rhyme, - And what shall be our ditty when the blossom’s on the lime? - Our lips have fed on winter and on weariness too long: - We will hail the royal summer with a golden-footed song. - - - II. - - O lady of my summer and my spring, - We shall hear the blackbird whistle and the brown sweet throstle sing, - And the low clear noise of waters running softly by our feet, - When the sights and sounds of summer in the green clear fields are sweet. - - - III. - - We shall see the roses blowing in the green, - The pink-lipped roses kissing in the golden summer sheen; - We shall see the fields flower thick with stars and bells of summer gold, - And the poppies burn out red and sweet across the corn-crowned wold. - - - IV. - - The time shall be for pleasure, not for pain; - There shall come no ghost of grieving for the past betwixt us twain; - But in the time of roses our lives shall grow together, - And our love be as the love of gods in the blue Olympian weather. - - JOHN PAYNE. - - - - - CHANT ROYAL OF THE GOD OF LOVE. - - - I. - - O most fair God, O Love both new and old, - That wast before the flowers of morning blew, - Before the glad sun in his mail of gold - Leapt into light across the first day’s dew; - That art the first and last of our delight, - That in the blue day and the purple night - Holdest the hearts of servant and of king, - Lord of liesse, sovran of sorrowing, - That in thy hand hast heaven’s golden key - And hell beneath the shadow of thy wing, - Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! - - - II. - - What thing rejects thy mastery? Who so bold - But at thine altars in the dusk they sue? - Even the straight pale goddess, silver-stoled, - That kissed Endymion when the spring was new, - To thee did homage in her own despite, - When in the shadow of her wings of white - She slid down trembling from her moonèd ring - To where the Latmian boy lay slumbering, - And in that kiss put off cold chastity. - Who but acclaim with voice and pipe and string, - “Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!” - - - III. - - Master of men and gods, in every fold - Of thy wide vans the sorceries that renew - The labouring earth, tranced with the winter’s cold, - Lie hid--the quintessential charms that woo - The souls of flowers, slain with the sullen might - Of the dead year, and draw them to the light. - Balsam and blessing to thy garments cling; - Skyward and seaward, when thy white hands fling - Their spells of healing over land and sea, - One shout of homage makes the welkin ring, - “Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!” - - - IV. - - I see thee throned aloft; thy fair hands hold - Myrtles for joy, and euphrasy and rue: - Laurels and roses round thy white brows rolled, - And in thine eyes the royal heaven’s hue: - But in thy lips’ clear colour, ruddy bright, - The heart’s blood shines of many a hapless wight. - Thou art not only fair and sweet as spring; - Terror and beauty, fear and wondering - Meet on thy brow, amazing all that see: - All men do praise thee, ay, and everything; - Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! - - - V. - - I fear thee, though I love. Who can behold - The sheer sun burning in the orbèd blue, - What while the noontide over hill and wold - Flames like a fire, except his mazèd view - Wither and tremble? So thy splendid sight - Fills me with mingled gladness and affright. - Thy visage haunts me in the wavering - Of dreams, and in the dawn awakening, - I feel thy radiance streaming full on me. - Both fear and joy unto thy feet I bring; - Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! - - - ENVOY. - - God above Gods, High and Eternal King, - To whom the spheral symphonies do sing, - I find no whither from thy power to flee, - Save in thy pinions vast o’ershadowing. - Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee! - - JOHN PAYNE. - - - - - FALSE SPRING. - - - O birds, ’twas not well done of you! - O flowers and breeze, right well ye knew - The weary glamour that the spring - Had laid for me on every thing. - ’Twas but to bring me back again - The memory of the olden pain, - You lured me out with songs of birds, - With violet breath and fair false words! - - For lo! my feet had hardly passed - The woven band of flowerage, cast - Betwixt the meadows and the trees, - When, in the bird-songs and the breeze, - Another strain was taken up; - And out of every blue-bell’s cup - The mocking voices sang again - The olden songs of love and pain. - - The flowers did mimic the old grace; - The wan white windflowers wore her face; - And in the stream I heard her words; - Her voice came rippling from the birds. - Dead love, I saw thy form anew - Bend down among the violets blue, - And, like a mist, the memory - Of all the past came back to me. - - JOHN PAYNE. - - - - - IN JUNE. - - - So sweet, so sweet the roses in their blowing, - So sweet the daffodils, so fair to see; - So blithe and gay the humming-bird a-going - From flower to flower, a-hunting with the bee. - - So sweet, so sweet the calling of the thrushes, - The calling, cooing, wooing, everywhere; - So sweet the water’s song through reeds and rushes, - The plover’s piping note, now here, now there. - - So sweet, so sweet from off the fields of clover - The west wind blowing, blowing up the hill; - So sweet, so sweet with news of some one’s lover, - Fleet footsteps, singing nearer, nearer still. - - So near, so near, now listen, listen, thrushes; - Now, plover, blackbird, cease, and let me hear; - And, water, hush your song through reeds and rushes, - That I may know whose lover cometh near. - - So loud, so loud the thrushes kept their calling, - Plover or blackbird never heeding me; - So loud the millstream too kept fretting, falling, - O’er bar and bank in brawling, boisterous glee. - - So loud, so loud; yet blackbird, thrush nor plover, - Nor noisy millstream, in its fret and fall, - Could drown the voice, the low voice of my lover, - My lover calling through the thrushes’ call. - - “Come down, come down!” he called, and straight the thrushes - From mate to mate sang all at once, “Come down!” - And while the water laughed through reeds and rushes, - The blackbird chirped, the plover piped, “Come down!” - - Then down and off, and through the fields of clover, - I followed, followed at my lover’s call; - Listening no more to blackbird, thrush or plover, - The water’s laugh, the millstream’s fret and fall. - - NORA PERRY. - - - - - A SONG OF WINTER. - - - Barb’d blossom of the guarded gorse, - I love thee where I see thee shine: - Thou sweetener of our common ways, - And brightener of our wintry days. - - Flower of the gorse, the rose is dead, - Thou art undying, oh, be mine! - Be mine with all thy thorns, and prest - Close on a heart that asks not rest. - - I pluck thee, and thy stigma set - Upon my breast and on my brow; - Blow, buds, and ’plenish so my wreath - That none may know the wounds beneath. - - O crown of thorn that seem’st of gold, - No festal coronal art thou; - Thy honey’d blossoms are but hives - That guard the growth of wingèd lives. - - I saw thee in the time of flowers - As sunshine spill’d upon the land, - Or burning bushes all ablaze - With sacred fire; but went my ways. - - I went my ways, and as I went - Pluck’d kindlier blooms on either hand; - Now of those blooms so passing sweet - None lives to stay my passing feet. - - And still thy lamp upon the hill - Feeds on the autumn’s dying sigh, - And from thy midst comes murmuring - A music sweeter than in spring. - - Barb’d blossoms of the guarded gorse, - Be mine to wear until I die, - And mine the wounds of love which still - Bear witness to his human will. - - EMILY PFEIFFER. - - - - - TO A LOST LOVE. - - - I cannot look upon thy grave, - Though there the rose is sweet: - Better to hear the long wave wash - These wastes about my feet! - - Shall I take comfort? Dost thou live - A spirit, though afar, - With a deep hush about thee, like - The stillness round a star? - - Oh, thou art cold! In that high sphere - Thou art a thing apart, - Losing in saner happiness - This madness of the heart. - - And yet, at times, thou still shalt feel - A passing breath, a pain; - Disturb’d, as though a door in heaven - Had sped and closed again. - - And thou shalt shiver, while the hymns - The solemn hymns, shall cease; - A moment half remember me: - Then turn away in peace. - - But oh! forevermore thy look, - Thy laugh, thy charm, thy tone, - Thy sweet and wayward loveliness, - Dear trivial things are gone! - - Therefore I look not on thy grave, - Though there the rose is sweet; - But rather hear the loud wave wash - These wastes about my feet. - - STEPHEN PHILLIPS. - - - - - PRINCE OF PAINTERS, COME, I PRAY. - - - Prince of painters, come, I pray, - Paint my love, for, though away, - King of craftsmen, you can well - Paint what I to thee can tell. - First her hair you must indite - Dark, but soft as summer night; - Hast thou no contrivance whence - To make it breathe its frankincense? - Rising from her rounded cheek - Let thy pencil duly speak, - How below that purpling night - Glows her forehead ivory-white. - Mind you neither part nor join - Those sweet eyebrows’ easy line; - They must merge, you know, to be - In separated unity. - Painter draw, as lover bids, - Now the dark line of the lids; - Painter, now ’tis my desire, - Make her glance from very fire, - Make it as Athene’s blue, - Like Cythera’s liquid too; - Now to give her cheeks and nose, - Milk must mingle with the rose; - Her lips be like persuasion’s made, - To call for kisses they persuade; - And for her delicious chin, - O’er and under and within, - And round her soft neck’s Parian wall, - Bid fly the graces, one and all. - For the rest, enrobe my pet - In her faint clear violet; - But a little truth must show - There is more that lies below, - Hold! thou hast her--that is she. - Hush! she ’s going to speak to me. - - WILLIAM PHILPOT. - - - - - A LAGOON MESSAGE. - - - Not now, but later, when the road - We tread together breaks apart, - When thou, my dearest, distant art, - And tedious days have swelled the load - Upon my heart. - - Or haply after that, when I - Am sealed within an earthy bed, - Resting and unrememberèd, - This scene will speak and easily - The whole be said. - - Some eve, when from his burning chair - The sun below Fusina slips, - And all the sable poplar tips - Wave in the warm vermilion air, - The wind, the lips - - Of the soft breeze with wayward touch - Shall tell thee all I longed to own; - And thou, on lurid lakes alone, - Wilt say: “Poor soul, he loved me much; - And he is gone.” - - PERCY C. PINKERTON. - - - - - A CONQUEST. - - - I found him openly wearing her token; - I knew that her troth could never be broken; - I laid my hand on the hilt of my sword, - He did the same, and he spoke no word; - He faced me with his villainy; - He laughed and said, “She gave it me.” - We searched for seconds, they soon were found; - They measured our swords; they measured the ground: - They held to the deadly work too fast; - They thought to gain our place at last. - We fought in the sheen of a wintry wood, - The fair white snow was red with his blood; - But his was the victory, for, as he died, - He swore by the rood that he had not lied. - - WALTER HERRIES POLLOCK. - - - - - THE DEVOUT LOVER. - - - It is not mine to sing the stately grace, - The great soul beaming in my lady’s face; - To write no sounding odes to me is given - Wherein her eyes outshine the stars in heaven. - - Not mine in flowing melodies to tell - The thousand beauties that I know so well; - Not mine to serenade her ev’ry tress, - And sit and sigh my love in idleness. - - But mine it is to follow in her train, - Do her behests in pleasure or in pain, - Burn at her altar love’s sweet frankincense, - And worship her in distant reverence. - - WALTER HERRIES POLLOCK. - - - - - BALLADE OF LOVERS. - - - For the man was she made by the Eden tree, - To be decked in soft raiment and worn on his sleeve, - To be fondled so long as they both agree,-- - A thing to take, or a thing to leave. - But for her, let her live through one long summer eve-- - Just the stars, and the moon, and the man, and she-- - And her soul will escape her beyond reprieve, - And, alas! the whole of her world is he. - - To-morrow brings plenty as lovesome, maybe; - If she break when he handles her, why should he grieve? - She is only one pearl in a pearl-crowded sea,-- - A thing to take, or a thing to leave. - But she, though she knows he has kissed to deceive, - And forsakes her, still only clings on at his knee-- - When life has gone, what further loss can bereave? - And, alas! the whole of her world is he. - - For the man was she made upon Eden lea, - To be helpmeet what time there is burden to heave, - White-footed, to follow where he walks free,-- - A thing to take, or a thing to leave; - White-fingered, to weave and to interweave - Her woof with his warp, and a tear two or three, - Till clear his way out through her web he cleave, - And, alas! the whole of her world is he. - - - ENVOI. - - Did he own her no more when he called her Eve, - Than a thing to take, or a thing to leave? - A flower-filled plot that unlocks to his key-- - But, alas! the whole of her world is he. - - MAY PROBYN. - - - - - IN A GARDEN. - - - The cowslip glowed, the tulip burned, - The grass was green as green could be; - There, as in sweet content we turned, - Beneath the budding linden-tree, - We saw the westering sunbeams shake - Large glory o’er the mountain lake. - - The cushat cooed, the blackbird’s cry - About the terrace garden rang; - Still as we wooed, my love and I, - The throstle still enraptured sang, - And still the waters danced with glee, - Beneath the budding linden-tree. - - The tulips trembled still with flame, - The cowslips gleamed along the walk, - Yet, dear one, when the last word came, - And silence only seemed to talk, - We looked and found the lake was gone, - Flowers dim, birds hushed, and one star shone. - - Beloved! by many an up and down, - O’er level lawns, unlevel ways, - Through weeds and flowers, when birds had flown - And when birds sang, have passed the days - Since our new dawn forbade the night; - But lo! o’erhead Love’s star is bright. - - HARDWICK DRUMMOND RAWNSLEY. - - - - - A SONG FOR CANDLEMAS. - - - There’s never a rose upon the bush, - And never a bud on any tree; - In wood and field nor hint nor sign - Of one green thing for you of me. - Come in, come in, sweet love of mine, - And let the bitter weather be. - - Coated with ice the garden wall, - The river reeds are stark and still; - The wind goes plunging to the sea, - And last week’s flakes the hollows fill. - Come in, come in, sweet love, to me, - And let the year blow as it will. - - LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE. - - - - - A DREAM OF DIANA. - - - In dream I saw Diana pass, Diana as of old, - Across the green wood radiantly, attired in green and gold; - With spear alert, with eyes afire, as they had seen the sun, - And gave its glances back again, with brightness of their own. - No human maid is she, I thought, who there so lightly fares - Upon her sylvan empery, afar from our pale cares. - - She passed, and left me to that thought, who felt the sadder then - That only once, and not again, she might be seen of men; - Though constantly, by lawn and wood, and hanging mountain-side, - My restless eye might dare to hunt the huntress in her pride. - Without her all was lonely grown; I had no liking left - For fern or foxglove bloom, of her bright grace bereft. - - And in that taking, in a bed of softest fern I lay, - And found no joy of woodcraft left, the livelong summer day; - When lo! at eve, a silvery horn, a questing hound, a cry, - And swift, Diana came again, and sat her down thereby; - And then I saw those radiant eyes were full of perfect rest, - And found beneath the goddess there the woman’s softer breast. - - ERNEST RHYS. - - - - - WHEN SHE COMES HOME. - - - When she comes home again! A thousand ways - I fashion, to myself, the tenderness - Of my glad welcome. I shall tremble--yes; - And touch her, as when first in the old days - I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise - Mine eyes, such was my faint heart’s sweet distress. - Then silence, and the perfume of her dress: - The room will sway a little, and a haze - Cloy eyesight--soul-sight, even--for a space: - And tears--yes; and the ache here in the throat, - To know that I so ill deserve the place - Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note - I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face - Again is hidden in the old embrace. - - JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. - - - - - POPLAR LEAVES. - - - The wind blows down the dusty street; - And through my soul that grieves - It brings a sudden odour sweet, - A smell of poplar leaves. - - O leaves that herald in the spring, - O freshness young and pure, - Into my weary soul you bring - The vigour to endure. - - The wood is near but out of sight, - Where all the poplars grow; - Straight up and tall and silver white, - They quiver in a row. - - My love is out of sight, but near; - And through my soul that grieves - A sudden memory wafts her here - As fresh as poplar leaves. - - A. MARY F. ROBINSON. - - - - - AFTER DEATH. - - - The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept - And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may - Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay, - Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept. - He leaned above me, thinking that I slept - And could not hear him; but I heard him say, - “Poor child, poor child!” and as he turned away - Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept. - He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold - That hid my face, or take my hand in his, - Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head: - He did not love me living; but once dead - He pitied me; and very sweet it is - To know he still is warm, though I am cold. - - CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. - - - - - SOMEWHERE OR OTHER. - - - Somewhere or other there must surely be - The face not seen, the voice not heard, - The heart that not yet--never yet--ah me! - Made answer to my word. - - Somewhere or other, may be near or far; - Past land and sea, clean out of sight; - Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star - That tracks her night by night. - - Somewhere or other, may be far or near; - With just a wall, a hedge between; - With just the last leaves of the dying year - Fallen on a turf grown green. - - CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. - - - - - FIRST LOVE REMEMBERED. - - - Peace in her chamber, wheresoe’er - It be, a holy place: - The thought still brings my soul such grace - As morning meadows wear. - - Whether it still be small and light, - A maid’s who dreams alone, - As from her orchard-gate the moon - Its ceiling showed at night: - - Or whether, in a shadow dense - As nuptial hymns invoke, - Innocent maidenhood awoke - To married innocence: - - Then still the thanks unheard await - The unconscious gift bequeathed; - For there my soul this hour has breathed - An air inviolate. - - DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - - - - LOVE ENTHRONED. - - - I marked all kindred Powers the heart finds fair:-- - Truth, with awed lips; and Hope, with eyes upcast; - And Fame, whose loud wings fan the ashen Past - To signal-fires, Oblivion’s flight to scare; - And Youth, with still some single golden hair - Unto his shoulder clinging, since the last - Embrace wherein two sweet arms held him fast; - And Life, still wreathing flowers for Death to wear. - - Love’s throne was not with these; but far above - All passionate wind of welcome and farewell - He sat in breathless bowers they dream not of; - Though Truth foreknow Love’s heart, and Hope foretell, - And Fame be for Love’s sake desirable, - And Youth be dear, and Life be sweet to Love. - - DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - - - - SUDDEN LIGHT. - - - I have been here before, - But when or how I cannot tell: - I know the grass beyond the door, - The sweet keen smell, - The sighing sound, the lights around the shore. - - You have been mine before,-- - How long ago I may not know: - But just when at that swallow’s soar - Your neck turned so, - Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore. - - Has this been thus before? - And shall not thus time’s eddying flight - Still with our lives our loves restore - In death’s despite, - And day and night yield one delight once more? - - DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - - - - A PERFECT DAY. - - - Bland air and leagues of immemorial blue; - No subtlest hint of whitening rime or cold; - A revel of rich colours, hue on hue, - From radiant crimson to soft shades of gold. - - A vagueness in the undulant hill line, - The flutter of a bird’s south-soaring wing; - Æolian harmonies in groves of pine, - And glad brook laughter like the mirth of spring. - - A sense of gracious calm afar and near, - And yet a something wanting,--one fine ray - For consummation. Love, were you but here, - Then were the day indeed a perfect day. - - CLINTON SCOLLARD. - - - - - RUS IN URBE. - - - Poets are singing, the whole world over, - Of May in melody, joys for June; - Dusting their feet in the careless clover, - And filling their hearts with the blackbird’s tune. - The “brown bright nightingale” strikes with pity - The sensitive heart of a count or clown; - But where is the song for our leafy city, - And where the rhymes for our lovely town? - - “Oh for the Thames and its rippling reaches, - Where almond rushes and breezes sport! - Take me a walk under Burnham Beeches; - Give me a dinner at Hampton Court!” - Poets, be still, though your hearts I harden; - We’ve flowers by day, and have scents at dark; - The limes are in leaf in the cockney garden, - And lilacs blossom in Regent’s Park. - - “Come for a blow,” says a reckless fellow, - Burn’d red and brown by passionate sun; - “Come to the downs, where the gorse is yellow - The season of kisses has just begun! - Come to the fields where bluebells shiver, - Hear cuckoo’s carol, or plaint of dove: - Come for a row on the silent river; - Come to the meadows and learn to love!” - - Yes, I will come when this wealth is over - Of softened colour and perfect tone: - The lilac’s better than fields of clover; - I’ll come when blossoming May has flown. - When dust and dirt of a trampled city - Have dragged the yellow laburnum down, - I’ll take my holiday,--more’s the pity,-- - And turn my back upon London town. - - Margaret! am I so wrong to love it, - This misty town that your face shines through? - A crown of blossom is waved above it; - But heart and life of the whirl--’tis you! - Margaret! pearl! I have sought and found you; - And though the paths of the wind are free, - I’ll follow the ways of the world around you, - And build my nest on the nearest tree. - - CLEMENT SCOTT. - - - - - SONG. - - - Love in my heart! oh, heart of me, heart of me! - Love is my tyrant, Love is supreme. - What if he passeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me! - Love is a phantom, and Life is a dream! - - What if he changeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me! - Oh, can the waters be void of the wind? - What if he wendeth afar and apart from me, - What if he leave me to perish behind? - - What if he passeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me! - A flame i’ the dusk, a breath of Desire? - Nay, my sweet Love is the heart and the soul of me, - And I am the innermost heart of his fire! - - Love in my heart! oh, heart of me, heart of me! - Love is my tyrant, Love is supreme. - What if he passeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me! - Love is a phantom, and Life is a dream! - - WILLIAM SHARP. - - - - - THE COMING OF LOVE. - - - In and out the osier beds, all along the shallows, - Lifts and laughs the soft south wind, or swoons among the grasses. - But, ah! whose following feet are these that bend the tall marsh-mallows? - Who laughs so low and sweet? Who sighs--and passes? - - Flower of my heart, my darling, why so slowly - Lift’st thou thine eyes to mine, sweet wells of gladness? - Too deep this new-found joy, and this new pain too holy; - Or is there dread in thine heart of this divinest madness? - - Who sighs with longing there? who laughs alow--and passes? - Whose following feet are these that bend the tall marsh-mallows? - Who comes upon the wind that stirs the heavy seeding grasses - In and out the osier beds, and hither through the shallows? - - Flower of my heart, my Dream, who whispers near so gladly? - Whose is the golden sunshine-net o’erspread for capture? - Lift, lift thine eyes to mine, who love so wildly, madly-- - Those eyes of brave desire, deep wells o’er-brimmed with rapture. - - WILLIAM SHARP. - - - - - RECALL. - - - “Love me, or I am slain!” I cried, and meant - Bitterly true each word. Nights, morns, slipped by, - Moons, circling suns, yet still alive am I; - But shame to me, if my best time be spent. - - On this perverse, blind passion! Are we sent - Upon a planet just to mate and die, - A man no more than some pale butterfly - That yields his day to nature’s sole intent? - - Or is my life but Marguerite’s ox-eyed flower, - That I should stand and pluck and fling away, - One after one, the petal of each hour, - Like a love-dreamy girl, and only say, - “Loves me,” and “loves me not,” and “loves me”? Nay! - Let the man’s mind awake to manhood’s power. - - EDWARD ROWLAND SILL. - - - - - FANTASIA. - - - We’re all alone, we’re all alone! - The moon and stars are dead and gone; - The night’s at deep, the wind asleep, - And thou and I are all alone! - - What care have we though life there be? - Tumult and life are not for me! - Silence and sleep about us creep; - Tumult and life are not for thee! - - How late it is since such as this - Had topped the height of breathing bliss! - And now we keep an iron sleep,-- - In that grave thou, and I in this! - - HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. - - - - - ONLY A LEAF. - - - When the late leaves lit all the place, - He left her with her ashen face; - “We shall not meet!” he lightly cried; - “Good-bye, sweetheart, the world is wide.” - - Though bright the sunshine on that day, - Though the bare boughs around her lay, - She thought in blackened shadow stood - The melancholy autumn wood. - - She bent, and lifted from the sod - A leaf whereon his foot had trod,-- - An idle leaf, but dead and sere, - It held the heart’s blood of a year! - - HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. - - - - - SONG FROM A DRAMA. - - - I know not if moonlight or starlight - Be soft on the land or the sea,-- - I catch but the near light, the far light, - Of eyes that are burning for me; - The scent of the night, of the roses, - May burden the air for thee, sweet,-- - ’Tis only the breath of thy sighing - I know, as I lie at thy feet. - - The winds may be sobbing or singing, - Their touch may be fervent or cold, - The night-bells may toll or be ringing,-- - I care not, while thee I enfold! - The feast may go on, and the music - Be scattered in ecstasy round,-- - Thy whisper, “I love thee! I love thee!” - Hath flooded my soul with its sound. - - I think not of time that is flying, - How short is the hour I have won, - How near is this living to dying, - How the shadow still follows the sun; - There is naught upon earth, no desire, - Worth a thought, though ’twere had by a sign! - I love thee! I love thee! bring nigher - Thy spirit, thy kisses to mine. - - EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. - - - - - THE VIOLET. - - - Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, - Thine odour, like a key, - Turns noiselessly in memory’s wards to let - A thought of sorrow free. - - The breath of distant fields upon my brow - Blows through that open door - The sound of wind-borne bells more sweet and low - And sadder than of yore. - - It comes afar from that beloved place, - And that beloved hour, - When Life hung ripening in Love’s golden grace, - Like grapes above a bower. - - A spring goes singing through its reedy grass, - The lark sings o’er my head - Drowned in the sky--oh, pass, ye visions, pass! - I would that I were dead. - - Why hast thou opened that forbidden door - From which I ever flee? - O vanished Joy! O Love that art no more, - Let my vexed spirit be! - - O violet! thy odour through my brain - Hath searched, and stung to grief - This sunny day, as if a curse did stain - Thy velvet leaf. - - W. W. STORY. - - - - - TO MY LADY. - - - From out the past she comes to me, - My Lady whom I loved long syne: - Her face is very fair to see, - Her gray eyes still with love-light shine, - I needs must think she still is mine. - - Once--in those old years long ago-- - I waited at the hour of dawn. - And, with the first faint Eastern glow-- - Before the sun his sword had drawn - And flushed its light the world upon, - My Lady’s true love did I know! - - But now at eve she comes--I stand - Alone. Among the autumn trees - Her white robe glimmers, and the breeze - Wafts me a ghostly fragrance rare. - Ah me! No rose doth she now bear-- - But crimson poppies in her hand. - - EDWARD FAIRBROTHER STRANGE. - - - - - AT PARTING. - - - For a day and night, Love sang to us, played with us, - Folded us round from the dark and the light; - And our hearts were fulfilled of the music he made with us, - Made with our hearts and our lips while he stayed with us, - Stayed in mid passage his pinions from flight - For a day and a night. - - From his foes that kept watch with his wings had he hidden us, - Covered us close from the eyes that would smite, - From the feet that had tracked and the tongues that had chidden us, - Sheltering in shade of the myrtles forbidden us, - Spirit and flesh growing one with delight - For a day and a night. - - But his wings will not rest, and his feet will not stay for us: - Morning is here in the joy of its might; - With his breath has he sweetened a night and a day for us: - Now let him pass, and the myrtles make way for us; - Love can but last in us here at his height - For a day and a night. - - ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. - - - - - AUGUST. - - - There were four apples on the bough, - Half gold, half red, that one might know - The blood was ripe inside the core; - The colour of the leaves was more - Like stems of yellow corn that grow - Through all the gold June meadow’s floor. - - The warm smell of the fruit was good - To feed on, and the split green wood, - With all its bearded lips and stains - Of mosses in the clover veins, - Most pleasant, if one lay or stood - In sunshine or in happy rains. - - There were four apples on the tree, - Red-stained through gold, that all might see - The sun went warm from core to rind; - The green leaves made the summer blind - In that soft place they kept for me - With golden apples shut behind. - - The leaves caught gold across the sun, - And where the bluest air begun, - Thirsted for song to help the heat; - As I to feel my lady’s feet - Draw close before the day were done: - Both lips grew dry with dreams of it. - - In the mute August afternoon - They trembled to some undertune - Of music in the silver air: - Great pleasure was it to be there - Till green turned duskier, and the moon - Coloured the corn-sheaves like gold hair. - - That August time it was delight - To watch the red moon’s wane to white - ’Twixt gray-seamed stems of apple-trees: - A sense of heavy harmonies - Grew on the growth of patient night, - More sweet than shapen music is. - - But some three hours before the moon - The air, still eager from the noon, - Flagged after heat, not wholly dead; - Against the stem I leant my head; - The colour soothed me like a tune, - Green leaves all round the gold and red. - - I lay there till the warm smell grew - More sharp, when flecks of yellow dew - Between the round ripe leaves had blurred - The rind with stain and wet; I heard - A wind that blew and breathed and blew, - Too weak to alter its one word. - - The wet leaves next the gentle fruit - Felt smoother, and the brown tree root - Felt the mould warmer: I, too, felt - (As water feels the slow gold melt - Right through it when the day burns mute) - The peace of time wherein love dwelt. - - There were four apples on the tree, - Gold stained on red that all might see - The sweet blood filled them to the core: - The colour of her hair is more - Like stems of fair faint gold, that be - Mown from the harvest’s middle floor. - - ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. - - - - - BETWEEN THE SUNSET AND THE SEA. - - - Between the sunset and the sea - My love laid hands and lips on me. - Of sweet came sour, of day came night, - Of long desire came brief delight: - Ah, love, and what thing came of thee - Between the sea-downs and the sea? - - Between the sea-mark and the sea - Joy grew to grief, grief grew to me; - Love turned to tears, and tears to fire, - And dead delight to new desire; - Love’s talk, love’s touch there seemed to be - Between the sea-sand and the sea. - - Between the sundown and the sea - Love watched one hour of love with me; - Then down the all-golden water-ways - His feet flew after yesterdays; - I saw them come and saw them flee - Between the sea-foam and the sea. - - Between the sea-strand and the sea - Love fell on sleep, sleep fell on me; - The first star saw twain turn to one - Between the moonrise and the sun; - The next, that saw not love, saw me - Between the sea-banks and the sea. - - ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. - - - - - THE OBLATION. - - - Ask nothing more of me, sweet: - All I can give you I give. - Heart of my heart, were it more, - More would be laid at your feet; - Love that should help you to live, - Song that should spur you to soar. - - All things were nothing to give, - Once to have sense of you more, - Touch you and taste of you, sweet, - Think you and breathe you, and live, - Swept of your wings as they soar, - Trodden by chance of your feet. - - I that have love and no more - Give you but love of you, sweet; - He that hath more let him give; - He that hath wings, let him soar; - Mine is the heart at your feet - Here, that must love you to live. - - ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. - - - - - ON JUDGE’S WALK. - - - That night on Judge’s Walk the wind - Was as the voice of doom; - The heath, a lake of darkness, lay - As silent as the tomb. - - The vast night brooded, white with stars, - Above the world’s unrest; - The awfulness of silence ached - Like a strong heart repressed. - - That night we walked beneath the trees, - Alone, beneath the trees; - There was some word we could not say - Half uttered in the breeze. - - That night on Judge’s Walk we said - No word of all we had to say; - And now no word shall e’er be said - Before the Judgment Day. - - ARTHUR SYMONS. - - - - - ICH HÖR’ ES SOGAR IM TRAUM. - - - Sing on, sing on: half dreaming still - I hear you singing down the hill, - Through the green wood, beside the rill. - - Each to the other sing, sweet birds; - Make music sweeter far than words; - Drown my still soul with song, sweet birds. - - Under each starbeam there was sleep; - Far down the river wandered deep; - The woods closed round it still and steep. - - One watch-dog from the lone farm bayed; - The waterfowl beneath the shade - Of sedge and flowering reed were laid. - - The birds sang on, and slumber shed - Like silver clouds upon my head; - I slept, nor stirred me in my bed. - - Into my room he seemed to glide; - The moonbeams through the window wide - Snowed in upon my white bedside. - - He kissed my lips, he kissed my cheek; - I could not kiss him back nor speak: - I feared the blissful sleep to break. - - Sing louder, nightingales of May! - Sing, dash my golden dream away! - Sing anthems to the orient day! - - The moonlight pales; the gray cock crows; - A murmur in the tree top goes; - Sleep sheds her petals like a rose. - - JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS. - - - - - OH, WHEN WILL IT BE? - - - Oh, when will it be, oh, when will it be, oh, when - That she shall be here, and the flute be here, and the wine - be here? oh, then - Her lips shall kiss the lips of the flute, and my lips shall - kiss the wine, - And I shall drink music from her sweet lips, and she shall - drink madness from mine. - - JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS. - - - - - BALLADE OF THE LADYES OF LONG SYNE. - - FROM THE FRENCH OF FRANÇOIS VILLON. - - - Tell me wher, in what contree, is - Flora, the beautifulle Romaine? - Thais and Archipiadis, - Wher are they now, those cosins twaine? - And Echo, gretyng her love agein - By banke of river and marge of mere, - Whos beaute was fre fro mortall stayne? - Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year? - - Wher is the lerned Helowis, - For whom undon in celle did plaine - Pierre Abelard at Saint Denys? - For love’s reward he had this peine - Where is the quene who did ordeine - That Buridan shulde drift in fere - Sowed in a sacke adoun the Saine? - Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year? - - Quene Blanche, fayre as the floure-de-lys, - Who sang as swete as the meremaid strayne, - Alys too, Bertha, Bietris, - And Hermengarde, who halt the Mayne, - And Joan, the good may of Lorraine, - At Rouen brent by Englyshe fere,-- - Wher are they, Virgine soveraine? - Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year? - - - ENVOY. - - Prince, for this sevennyght be not fain, - Nor this twelfmonthe to question wher - They be, withouten this refraine, - Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year? - - STEPHEN TEMPLE. - - - - - FATIMA. - - O Love, Love, Love! O withering might! - O sun, that from thy noonday height - Shudderest when I strain my sight, - Throbbing thro’ all thy heat and light, - Lo, falling from my constant mind, - Lo, parch’d and wither’d, deaf and blind, - I whirl like leaves in roaring wind. - - Last night I wasted hateful hours - Below the city’s eastern towers: - I thirsted for the brooks, the showers: - I roll’d among the tender flowers: - I crush’d them on my breast, my mouth: - I looked athwart the burning drought - Of that long desert to the south. - - Last night, when some one spoke his name, - From my swift blood that went and came - A thousand little shafts of flame - Were shiver’d in my narrow frame. - O Love, O fire! once he drew - With one long kiss my whole soul thro’ - My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. - - Before he mounts the hill, I know - He cometh quickly: from below - Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow - Before him, striking on my brow. - In my dry brain my spirit soon, - Down-deepening from swoon to swoon, - Faints like a dazzled morning moon. - - The wind sounds like a silver wire, - And from beyond the noon a fire - Is pour’d upon the hills, and nigher - The skies stoop down in their desire; - And, isled in sudden seas of light, - My heart, pierc’d thro’ with fierce delight, - Bursts into blossom in his sight. - - My whole soul waiting silently, - All naked in a sultry sky, - Droops blinded with his shining eye: - I _will_ possess him or will die. - I will grow round him in his place, - Grow, live, die looking on his face, - Die, dying clasp’d in his embrace. - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. - - - - - NOW SLEEPS THE CRIMSON PETAL. - - - Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; - Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; - Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: - The firefly wakens: waken thou with me. - - Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, - And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. - - Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, - And all thy heart lies open unto me. - - Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves - A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. - - Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, - And slips into the bosom of the lake; - So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip - Into my bosom and be lost in me. - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. - - - - - THE WINDOW; OR THE SONGS OF THE WRENS. - - - AT THE WINDOW. - - Vine, vine and eglantine, - Clasp her window, trail and twine! - Rose, rose and clematis, - Trail and twine and clasp and kiss, - Kiss, kiss; and make her a bower - All of flowers, and drop me a flower, - Drop me a flower. - - Vine, vine and eglantine, - Cannot a flower, a flower, be mine? - Rose, rose and clematis, - Drop me a flower, a flower, to kiss, - Kiss, kiss--and out of her bower - All of flowers, a flower, a flower - Dropt, a flower. - - - - - GONE. - - - Gone! - Gone till the end of the year, - Gone, and the light gone with her and left me in shadow here! - Gone--flitted away, - Taken the stars from the night and the sun from the day! - Gone, and a cloud in my heart, and a storm in the air! - Flown to the east or the west, flitted I know not where! - Down in the south is a flash and a groan; she is there! she is there! - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. - - - - - VALENTINE. - - - If thou canst make the frost be gone, - And fleet away the snow - (And that thou canst, I trow); - If thou canst make the spring to dawn, - Hawthorn to put her brav’ry on, - Willow, her weeds of fine green lawn, - Say why thou dost not so-- - Aye, aye! - Say why - Thou dost not so! - - If thou canst chase the stormy rack, - And bid the soft winds blow - (And that thou canst, I trow); - If thou canst call the thrushes back - To give the groves the songs they lack, - And wake the violet in thy track, - Say why thou dost not so-- - Aye, aye! - Say why - Thou dost not so! - - If thou canst make my winter spring, - With one word breathèd low - (And that thou canst, I know); - If in the closure of a ring - Thou canst to me such treasure bring, - My state shall be above a king, - Say why thou dost not so-- - Aye, aye! - Say why - Thou dost not so! - - EDITH M. THOMAS. - - - - - DREAM TRYST. - - - The breaths of kissing night and day - Were mingled in the eastern heaven; - Throbbing with unheard melody - Shook Lyra all its star-chord seven: - When dusk shrunk cold, and light trod shy, - And dawn’s gray eyes were troubled gray; - And souls went palely up the sky, - And mine to Lucidé. - - There was no change in her sweet eyes - Since last I saw those sweet eyes shine; - There was no change in her deep heart - Since last that deep heart knocked at mine. - Her eyes were clear, her eyes were Hope’s, - Wherein did ever come and go - The sparkle of the fountain-drops - From her sweet soul below. - - The chambers in the house of dreams - Are fed with so divine an air, - That Time’s hoar wings grow young therein, - And they who walk there are most fair. - I joyed for me, I joyed for her, - Who with the Past meet girt about, - Where our last kiss still warms the air, - Nor can her eyes go out. - - FRANCIS THOMPSON. - - - - - ATALANTA. - - - When spring grows old, and sleepy winds - Set from the south with odours sweet, - I see my love, in green, cool groves, - Speed down dusk aisles on shining feet. - - She throws a kiss and bids me run, - In whispers sweet as roses’ breath; - I know I cannot win the race, - And at the end, I know, is death. - - But joyfully I bare my limbs, - Anoint me with the tropic breeze, - And feel through every sinew thrill - The vigour of Hippomenes. - - A race of love! We all have run - Thy happy course through groves of spring, - And cared not, when at last we lost, - For life, or death, or anything! - - MAURICE THOMPSON. - - - - - A SONG OF THANKSGIVING. - - - My love is the flaming sword, to fight through the world; - Thy love is the shield to ward, - And the armour of the Lord, - And the banner of Heav’n unfurl’d. - - Let my voice ring out, and over the earth, - Through all the grief and strife, - With a golden joy in a silver mirth, - Thank God for Life! - - Let my voice swell out through the great abyss, - To the azure dome above, - With a chord of faith in the harp of bliss - Thank God for Love! - - Let my voice thrill out, beneath and above, - The whole world through, - O my Love and Life, O my Life and Love, - Thank God for you! - - JAMES THOMSON. - - - - - DAY AFTER DAY OF THIS AZURE MAY. - - - Day after day of this azure May, - The blood of the spring has swelled in my veins; - Night after night of broad moonlight, - A mystical dream has dazzled my brains. - - A seething might, a fierce delight, - The blood of the spring is the wine of the world; - My veins run fire and thrill desire, - Every leaf of my heart’s red rose uncurled. - - A sad, sweet calm, a tearful balm, - The light of the moon is the trance of the world; - My brain is fraught with yearning thought, - And the rose is pale, and its leaves are furled. - - Oh, speed the day then, dear, dear May, - And hasten the night, I charge thee, O June! - When the trance divine shall burn with the wine, - And the red rose unfurl all its fire to the moon. - - JAMES THOMSON. - - - - - THE SONG OF TRISTRAM. - - - The star of love is trembling in the west, - Night hears the desolate sea with moan on moan - Sigh for the storm, who on his mountain lone - Smites his wild harp, and dreams of her wild breast. - I am thy storm, Isolt, and thou my sea! - Isolt! - My passionate sea! - - The storm to her wild breast, the passionate sea - To his fierce arms: we to the rapturous leap - Of mated spirits mingling in love’s deep, - Flame to flame, I to thee and thou to me! - Thou to mine arms, Isolt, I to thy breast! - Isolt! - I to thy breast! - - JOHN TODHUNTER. - - - - - AUBADE. - - - The lights are out in the street, and a cool wind swings - Loose poplar plumes on the sky; - Deep in the gloom of the garden the first bird sings: - Curt, hurried steps go by, - Loud in the hush of the dawn past the linden screen, - Lost in a jar and a rattle of wheels unseen, - Beyond on the wide highway: - Night lingers dusky and dim in the pear-tree boughs, - Hangs in the hollows of leaves, though the thrushes rouse, - And the glimmering lawn grows gray. - - Yours, my heart knoweth, yours only the jewelled gloom, - Splendours of opal and amber, the scent, the bloom, - Yours all, and your own demesne-- - Scent of the dark, of the dawning, of leaves and dew; - Nothing that was but hath changed--’tis a world made new-- - A lost world risen again. - - The lamps are out in the street, and the air grows bright; - Come, lest the miracle fade in the broad, bare light, - The new world wither away: - Clear is your voice in my heart, and you call me--whence? - Come--for I listen, I wait,--bid me rise, go hence, - Or ever the dawn turn day. - - GRAHAM R. TOMSON. - - - - - LOVE, THE GUEST. - - - I did not dream that Love would stay, - I deemed him but a passing guest, - Yet here he lingers many a day. - - I said, “Young Love will flee with May, - And leave forlorn the hearth he blest;” - I did not dream that Love would stay. - - My envious neighbour mocks me, “Nay, - Love lies not long in any nest;” - Yet here he lingers many a day. - - And though I did his will alway, - And gave him even of my best, - I did not dream that Love would stay. - - I have no skill to bid him stay, - Of tripping tongue or cunning jest, - Yet here he lingers many a day. - - Beneath his ivory feet I lay - Pale plumage of the ringdove’s breast; - I did not dream that Love would stay. - - Will Love be flown? I ofttimes say, - Home turning for the noonday rest; - Yet here he lingers many a day. - - His gold curls gleam, his lips are gay, - His eyes through tears smile loveliest; - I did not dream that Love would stay. - - He sometimes sighs, when far away - The low red sun makes fair the west, - Yet here he lingers many a day. - - Thrice blest of all men am I! yea, - Although of all unworthiest; - I did not dream that Love would stay, - Yet here he lingers many a day. - - GRAHAM R. TOMSON. - - - - - A BLUSH AT FAREWELL. - - - Her tears are all thine own! how blest thou art! - Thine, too, the blush which no reserve can bind; - Thy farewell voice was as the stirring wind - That floats the rose-bloom; thou hast won her heart; - Dear are the hopes it ushers to thy breast; - She speaks not--but she gives her silent bond; - And thou mayst trust it, asking nought beyond - The promise, which as yet no words attest; - Deep in her bosom sinks the conscious glow, - And deep in thine! and I can well foresee, - If thou shalt feel a lover’s jealousy - For her brief absence, what a ruling power - A bygone blush shall prove! until the hour - Of meeting, when thy next love-rose shall blow. - - CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER. - - - - - THE KISS OF BETROTHAL. - - - When lovers’ lips from kissing disunite - With sound as soft as mellow fruitage breaking, - They loathe to leave what was so sweet in taking, - So fraught with breathless magical delight; - The scent of flowers is long before it fade, - Long dwells upon the gale the Vesper-tone, - Far floats the wake the lightest skiff has made, - The closest kiss when once imprest, is gone; - What marvel, then, that each so closely kisseth? - Sweet is the fourfold touch--the living seal-- - What marvel then, with sorrow each dismisseth - This thrilling pledge of all they hope and feel? - While on their lingering steps the shadows steal, - And each true heart beats as the other wisheth. - - CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER. - - - - - THE PARTING-GATE. - - - In that old beech-walk, now bestrewn with mast, - And roaring loud--they linger’d long and late; - Harsh was the clang of the last homeward gate - That latch’d itself behind them, as they pass’d-- - Then kiss’d and parted. Soon her funeral knell - Toll’d from a foreign clime; he did not talk - Nor weep, but shudder’d at that stern farewell; - ’Twas the last gate in all their lovers’-walk - Without the kiss beyond it! Was it good - To leave him thus, alone with his sad mood - In that dear footpath, haunted by her smile? - Where they had laugh’d and loiter’d, sat and stood? - Alone in life! alone in Moreham wood! - Through all that sweet, forsaken, forest mile! - - CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER. - - - - - IRISH LOVE SONG. - - - Would God I were the tender apple-blossom, - Floating and falling from the twisted bough, - To lie and faint within your silken bosom, - As that does now! - - Or would I were a little burnished apple - For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold, - While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple, - Your hair’s spun gold. - - Yea, would to God I were among the roses - That lean to kiss you as you float between! - While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses - To touch you, Queen! - - Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing - A happy daisy in the garden path; - That so your silver foot might press me going, - Even unto death! - - KATHERINE TYNAN. - - - - - GOOD-NIGHT. - - - It is over now, she is gone to rest; - I have clasped the hands on the quiet breast; - Draw back the curtain, let in the light, - She will never shrink if it be too bright. - - We were two in here but an hour gone by, - No streak was then in the midnight sky; - Now I am one to watch the day - Come glimmering up from the far-away. - - What will he say when he comes in, - Waked by the city’s morning din, - Hoping to find and fearing to know - The sorrow he left but an hour ago? - - What will he say who has watched so long, - When he shall find who has come and gone? - Come a watcher that will not bide - Love’s morning or noon or eventide. - - He thought to kiss her by morning gray, - But God has thought to take her away. - What will he say? God knows, not I; - “Good-night,” he said, but never “good-bye.” - - C. C. FRASER TYTLER. - - - - - I KNOW ’TIS LATE, BUT LET ME STAY. - - - I know ’tis late, but let me stay, - For night is tenderer than day; - Sweet love, dear love, I cannot go; - Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so. - The birds are in the grove asleep, - The katydids shrill concert keep, - The woodbine breathes a fragrance rare - To please the dewy, languid air, - The fireflies twinkle in the vale, - The river shines in moonlight pale: - See yon bright star! choose it for thine, - And call its near companion mine; - Yon air-spun lace above the moon,-- - ’Twill veil her radiant beauty soon; - And look! a meteor’s dreamy light - Streams mystic through the solemn night. - Ah, life glides swift, like that still fire-- - How soon our gleams of joy expire! - Who can be sure the present kiss - Is not his last? Make all of this. - I know ’tis late, dear love, I know, - Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so. - - It cannot be the stealthy day - That turns the orient darkness gray; - Heardst thou? I thought or feared I heard - Vague twitters of some wakeful bird. - Nay, ’twas but summer in her sleep - Low murmuring from the leafy deep. - Fantastic mist obscurely fills - The hollows of Kentucky hills. - The wings of night are swift indeed! - Why makes the jealous morn such speed? - This rose thou wear’st may I not take - For passionate remembrance’ sake? - Press with thy lips its crimson heart. - Yes, blushing rose, we must depart. - A rose cannot return a kiss-- - I pay its due with this, and this. - The stars grow faint, they soon will die, - But love fades not nor fails. Good-bye! - Unhappy joy--delicious pain-- - We part in love, we meet again. - Good-bye! the morning dawns--I go; - Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so. - - WILLIAM H. VENABLE. - - - - - CASHEL OF MUNSTER. - - - I would wed you, dear, without gold or gear, or counted kine; - My wealth you’ll be, would your friends agree, and you be mine. - My grief, my gloom! that you do not come, my heart’s dear hoard! - To Cashel fair, though our couch were there but a soft deal board. - - Oh, come, my bride, o’er the wild hill-side to the valley low! - A downy bed for my love I’ll spread where waters flow, - And we shall stray where streamlets play, the groves among, - Where echo tells to the listening dells the blackbird’s song. - - Love tender, true, I gave to you, and secret sighs, - In hope to see upon you and me one hour arise, - When the priest’s blest voice would bind my choice and the ring’s - strict tie, - If wife you be, love, to one but me, love, in grief I’ll die! - - A neck of white has my heart’s delight, and breast like snow, - And flowing hair whose ringlets fair to the green grass flow, - Alas! that I did not early die, before the day - That saw me here, from my bosom’s dear, far, far away! - - EDWARD WALSH. - - - - - DAFFODILS. - - - I question with the amber daffodils, - Sheeting the floors of April, how she fares; - Where king-cup buds gleam out between the rills, - And celandine in wide gold beadlets glares. - - By pastured brows and swelling hedgerow bowers, - From crumpled leaves the primrose bunches slip, - My hot face roll’d in their faint-scented flowers, - I dream her rich cheek rests against my lip. - - All weird sensations of the fervent prime - Are like great harmonies, whose touch can move - The glow of gracious impulse: thought and time - Renew my love with life, my life with love. - - When this old world new-born puts glories on, - I cannot think she never will be won. - - JOHN LEICESTER WARREN. - - - - - AVE ATQUE VALE. - - - Farewell my Youth! for now we needs must part, - For here the paths divide; - Here hand from hand must sever, heart from heart,-- - Divergence deep and wide. - - You’ll wear no withered roses for my sake, - Though I go mourning for you all day long, - Finding no magic more in bower and brake, - No melody in song. - - Gray Eld must travel in my company - To seal this severance more fast and sure. - A joyless fellowship, i’ faith, ’twill be, - Yet must we fare together, I and he, - Till I shall tread the footpath way no more. - - But when a blackbird pipes among the boughs, - On some dim iridescent day in spring, - Then I may dream you are remembering - Our ancient vows. - - Or when some joy foregone, some fate forsworn - Looks through the dark eyes of the violet, - I may recross the set, forbidden bourne, I may forget - Our long, long parting for a little while, - Dream of the golden splendours of your smile, - Dream you remember yet. - - ROSAMUND MARRIOT WATSON. - - - - - EPITAPH. - - - Now lay thee down to sleep, and dream of me; - Though thou art dead and I am living yet, - Though cool thy couch and sweet thy slumbers be, - Dream--do not quite forget. - - Sleep all the autumn, all the winter long, - With never a painted shadow from the past - To haunt thee; only, when the blackbird’s song - Wakens the woods at last, - - When the young shoots grow lusty overhead, - Here, where the spring sun smiles, the spring wind grieves, - When budding violets close above thee spread - Their small heart-shapen leaves, - - Pass, O Belovèd, to dreams from slumber deep; - Recount the store that mellowing time endears, - Tread, through the measureless mazes of thy sleep, - Our old unchangeful years. - - Lie still and listen--while thy sheltering tree - Whispers of suns that rose, of suns that set-- - For far-off echoes of the spring and me. - Dream--do not quite forget. - - ROSAMUND MARRIOT WATSON. - - - - - A GOLDEN HOUR. - - - A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, - That lightly danced in laughing air before us: - The earth was all in tune, and you a note - Of Nature’s happy chorus. - - ’Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead - The leafless boughs across the lane were knitting: - The ghost of some forgotten spring, we said, - O’er winter’s world comes flitting. - - Or was it spring herself, that, gone astray, - Beyond the alien frontier chose to tarry? - Or but some bold outrider of the May, - Some April emissary? - - The apparition faded on the air, - Capricious and incalculable comer.-- - Wilt thou too pass, and leave my chill days bare, - And fall’n my phantom summer? - - WILLIAM WATSON. - - - - - AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END? - - - And these--are these indeed the end, - This grinning skull, this heavy loam? - Do all green ways whereby we wend - Lead but to yon ignoble home? - - Ah, well! Thine eyes invite to bliss; - Thy lips are hives of summer still. - I ask not other worlds while this - Proffers me all the sweets I will. - - WILLIAM WATSON. - - - - - A DREAM. - - - Beneath the loveliest dream there coils a fear: - Last night came she whose eyes are memories now, - Her far-off gaze seemed all-forgetful how - Love dimmed them once, so calm they shone, and clear. - “Sorrow (I said) hath made me old, my dear; - ’Tis I, indeed, but grief doth change the brow; - A love like mine a seraph’s neck might bow, - Vigils like mine would blanch an angel’s hair.” - - Ah! then I saw, I saw the sweet lips move! - I saw the love-mists thickening in her eyes; - I heard wild wordless melodies of love, - Like murmur of dreaming brooks in Paradise; - And when upon my neck she fell, my dove, - I knew her hair, though heavy of amaranth-spice. - - THEODORE WATTS. - - - - - THE FIRST KISS. - - - If only in dreams may man be fully blest, - Is heav’n a dream? Is she I claspt a dream? - Or stood she here even now where dewdrops gleam, - And miles of furze shine golden down the West? - I seem to clasp her still,--still on my breast - Her bosom beats; I see the blue eyes beam: - I think she kissed these lips, for now they seem - Scarce mine, so hallow’d of the lips they press’d! - - Yon thicket’s breath--can that be eglantine? - Those birds--can they be morning’s choristers? - Can this be earth? Can these be banks of furze? - Like burning bushes fired of God they shine! - I seem to know them, though this body of mine - Pass’d into spirit at the touch of hers. - - THEODORE WATTS. - - - - - SUFFICIENCY. - - - A little love, of Heaven a little share, - And then we go--what matters it, since where, - Or when, or how, none may aforetime know, - Nor if Death cometh soon, or lingering slow, - Send on ahead his herald of Despair. - - On this gray life Love lights with golden glow - Refracted from The Source, his bright wings throw - Its glory on us, if Fate grant our prayer, - A little love! - - A little; ’tis as much as we can bear, - For Love is compassed with such magic air - Who breathes it fully dies; and knowing so, - The Gods all wisely but a taste bestow - For little lives; a little while they spare - A little love. - - GLEESON WHITE. - - - - - BENEDICITE. - - - God’s love and peace be with thee, where - Soe’er this soft autumnal air - Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair! - - Whether through city casements comes - Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms, - Or, out among the woodland blooms, - - It freshens o’er thy thoughtful face, - Imparting, in its glad embrace, - Beauty to beauty, grace to grace! - - Fair Nature’s book together read,-- - The old wood-paths that knew our tread, - The maple shadows overhead, - - The hills we climbed, the river seen - By gleams along its deep ravine,-- - All keep thy memory fresh and green. - - Where’er I look, where’er I stray, - Thy thought goes with me on my way, - And hence the prayer I breathe to-day; - - O’er lapse of time and change of scene,-- - The weary waste which lies between - Thyself and me, my heart I lean. - - Thou lack’st not Friendship’s spell-word, nor - The half-unconscious power to draw - All hearts to thine by Love’s sweet law. - - With these good gifts of God is cast - Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast - To hold the blessed angels fast. - - If, then, a fervent wish for thee - The gracious heavens will heed from me, - What should, dear heart, its burden be? - - The sighing of a shaken reed,-- - What can I more than meekly plead - The greatness of our common need? - - God’s love,--unchanging, pure, and true,-- - The Paraclete white-shining through - His peace,--the fall of Hermon’s dew! - - With such a prayer, on this sweet day, - As thou mayst hear and I may say, - I greet thee, dearest, far away! - - JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. - - - - - MY VIOLET. - - - When violets blue begin to blow - Among the mosses fresh and green, - That grow the woodbine roots between, - I take my Violet out, and, oh! - Those cunning violets seem to know - A sweeter than themselves is nigh; - They greet her with a beaming eye, - And brighten where her footsteps go. - - When summer glories light the glade - With gloss of green and gleam of gold, - And sunny sheens in wood and wold, - She loves to linger in the shade; - And such sweet light surrounds the maid, - That, somehow, it is fairer far - Where she and those dim shadows are, - Than where the sunbeams are displayed. - - When every tree relinquisheth - Its garb of green for sombre brown, - And all the leaves are falling down, - While breezes blow with angry breath, - With gentle pitying voice she saith, - “Poor leaves! I wish you would not die;” - And at the sound they peaceful lie, - And wear a pleasant calm in death. - - When winter frosts hold land and sea, - And barren want and bleaker wind - Leave every thought of good behind, - I look upon my love, and she - From thrall of winter sets me free; - And with a sense of perfect rest - I lay my head upon her breast, - And twenty summers shine for me. - - J. T. BURTON WOLLASTON. - - - - - ASLEEP. - - - Lids closed and pale, with parted lips she lay; - Black on white pillows spread her hair unbound. - Awake, I watched her sleeping face, and found - Its beauty perfect in the breaking day. - - Ah, then I knew that Love had passed away; - Alas! though with the entering sun that crowned - With light the beauty that mine arms enwound, - Came too the morning music of the bay. - - I wept that Love had been and was no more, - That never shower nor sunlight should restore - The love that gave her life and heart to me; - - While radiant in the outburst of the dawn, - Fresh as the wind that swept the mountain lawn, - Green April wantoned on the noisy sea. - - THEODORE WRATISLAW. - - - - - SWIMMING SONG. - - - The broad green rollers lift and glide - Beneath our hearts as, side by side, - We breast them blithely, blithely swim - Toward the far horizon’s rim. - - The murmur of the land recedes, - The land of grief that aches and needs; - We only as we fall and rise - Drink deep the splendour of the skies. - - O far blue heaven above our head, - O near green sea about us spread, - What joy so full, since time began, - Could earth, our mother, give to man? - - Your bright face through the water peers - And laughs. “What need have men for tears?” - We say. The land is far and dim, - The world is summer’s, and we swim. - - Your bright face peers and laughs. The sweet - Same joy fulfils us, hands and feet: - The same sea’s salt wet lips kiss ours: - We feel the same enraptured hours. - - Out yonder! where our distant home - Beckons us from the crests of foam! - Out yonder through the roller’s mirth! - What part was ever ours with earth? - - Your white limbs flash, your red lips gleam: - Love seems life’s best and holiest dream; - Nought comes between us here, and I - Could wish not otherwise to die. - - With sea beneath us, heaven above, - Life holds but laughter, joy, and love; - No trammels bind us now, and we - Are freer than the birds are free. - - Your face seems sweeter here; your hair, - Wet from the sea’s salt lips, more fair; - Your limbs that move and gleam and shine, - Hellenic, pagan, half divine. - - If I should catch you now, make fast - Your hands with mine, about you cast - My limbs, and through the untroubled waves - Draw you down to the sea’s deep graves! - - Ah, sweet! God’s gift is good enough, - God’s gift of freedom, life, and love-- - Though but for this brief hour are we - Alone upon the eternal sea. - - THEODORE WRATISLAW. - - - - - THE PEACE OF THE ROSE. - - - If Michael, leader of God’s host, - When Heaven and Hell are met, - Looked down on you from Heaven’s door-post, - He would his deeds forget. - - Brooding no more upon God’s wars - In his Divine homestead, - He would go weave out of the stars - A chaplet for your head; - - And all folk seeing him bow down, - And white stars tell your praise, - Would come at last to God’s great town, - Led on by gentle ways; - - And God would bid his warfare cease, - Saying all things were well, - And softly make a rosy peace, - A peace of Heaven and Hell. - - W. B. YEATS. - - - - - THE BRIDAL PAIR. - - - HE. - - Though the roving bee as lightly - Sip the sweets of thyme and clover, - Though the moon of May as whitely - Silver all the greensward over, - Yet, beneath the trysting tree, - That hath been which shall not be! - - - SHE. - - Drip the vials ne’er so sweetly - With the honey-dew of pleasure, - Trip the dancers ne’er so featly - Through the old remembered measure, - Yet, the lighted lanthorn round, - What is lost shall not be found! - - WILLIAM YOUNG. - - - - - THE TRIFLERS. - - - HE. - - Because thou wast cold and proud, - And as one alone in the crowd, - And because of thy wilful and wayward look, - I thought, as I saw thee above my book, - “I will prove if her heart be flesh or stone;” - And in seeking thine, I have found my own. - - - SHE. - - Because thou wast proud and cold, - And because of the story told - That never had woman a smile from thee, - I thought as I glanc’d, “If he frown on me, - Why, be it so! but his peace shall atone;” - And in troubling thine, I have lost my own. - - WILLIAM YOUNG. - - - - - AT THY GRAVE. - - - Waves the soft grass at my feet; - Dost thou feel me near thee, sweet? - Though the earth upon thy face - Holds thee close from my embrace, - Yet my spirit thine can reach, - Needs betwixt us twain no speech, - For the same soul lives in each. - - Now I meet no tender eyes - Seeking mine in soft surmise - At some broken utterance faint, - Smile quick brightening, sigh half spent; - Yet in some sweet hours gone by, - No responding eye to eye - Needed we for sympathy. - - Love, I seem to see thee stand - Silent in a shadowy land, - With a look upon thy face - As if even in that dull place - Distant voices smote thine ears, - Memories of vanished years, - Or faint echoes of those tears. - - Yet I would not have it thus; - Then would be most piteous - Our divided lives, if thou - An imperfect bliss should know; - Sweet my suffering, if to thee - Death has brought the faculty - Of entire felicity. - - Rather would I weep in vain, - That thou canst not share my pain, - Deem that Lethean waters roll - Softly o’er thy separate soul, - Know that a divided bliss - Makes thee careless of my kiss, - Than that thou shouldst feel distress. - - Hush! I hear a low, sweet sound - As of music stealing round; - Forms thy hand the thrilling chords - Into more than spoken words? - Ah! ’tis but the gathering breeze - Whispering to the budding trees, - Or the song of early bees. - - Love! where art thou? Canst thou not - Hear me, or is all forgot? - Seest thou not these burning tears? - Can my words not reach thine ears? - Or betwixt my soul and thine - Has some mystery divine - Sealed a separating line? - - Is it thus, then, after death - Old things none remembereth? - Is the spirit henceforth clear - Of the life it gathered here? - Will our noblest longings seem - Like some disremembered dream - In the after world’s full beam? - - Hark! the rainy wind blows loud, - Scuds above the hurrying cloud; - Hushed is all the song of bees; - Angry murmurs of the trees - Herald tempests. Silent yet - Sleepest thou--nor fear nor fret - Troubles thee. Can I forget? - - - - - LO! IN A DREAM LOVE CAME TO ME. - - - Lo! in a dream Love came to me and cried: - “The summer dawn creeps over land and sea; - The golden fields are ripe for harvest-tide, - And the grape-gatherers climb the mountain-side; - The harvest joy is come; I wait for thee. - Arise, come down, and follow, follow me.” - - And I arose, went down, and followed him. - The reaper’s song went ringing through the air; - Below, the morning mists grew pale and dim, - And on the mountain ridge the sun’s bright rim - Rose swiftly, and the glorious dawn was there. - I followed, followed Love, I knew not where. - - Through orange groves and orchard ways we went; - The cool fresh dew lay deep on grass and tree, - Above our heads the laden boughs were bent - With weight of ripening fruit; the faint sweet scent - Of fragrant myrtles drifted up to me: - Blindly, O Love, blindly I followed thee! - - O Love, the morning shadows passed away - From off the broad fair fields of waving wheat; - I followed thee, till in the full noonday - The weary women in the vineyards lay; - The tall field flowers drooped fading in the heat: - I followed thee with bruised and bleeding feet. - - Upon the long white road the fierce sun shone, - And on the distant town and wide waste plain, - O Love, I blindly, blindly followed on, - Nor knew how sharp the way my feet had gone; - Nor knew I aught of shame or loss or pain, - Nor knew I all my labour was in vain. - - The sun sank down in silence o’er the land, - The heavy shadows gathered deep and black; - Across the lonely waste of reeds and sand - I followed Love: I could not touch his hand, - Nor see his hidden face, nor turn me back, - Nor find again the far-off mountain-track. - - Blindly, O Love! blindly I followed thee: - The summer night lay on the silent plain, - And on the sleeping city and the sea; - The sound of rippling waves came up to me. - O Love! the dawn drew near; far off again - The gray light gathered where the night had lain. - - On through the quiet street Love passed, and cried: - “The summer dawn creeps over land and sea; - Sweet is the summer and the harvest-tide; - Awake, arise, Love waits for thee, his Bride.” - And she arose and followed, followed thee, - O traitor Love! who hast forsaken me. - - FRASER’S MAGAZINE. - - - - - _VALE._ - - - _Warbleth the bird of Love his golden song, - And many hearken to his magic strain; - In joyous major now he carols strong, - In minors low he croons his soft refrain._ - - _So fair his lay of Love’s fond empery, - One scarce may mark the quaver of his sigh; - Or note amid his seeming ecstasy - The dream that fades, the hopes that shatter’d lie._ - - _But most he sings for Youth’s enraptured ear, - When hope beats fast and buds are bourgeoning,-- - “Time flies,” he trills, “clasp close the fleeting year - Ere winter cometh, and sweet Love take wing!”_ - - - - - INDEX - - -ADCOCK, A. ST. J.: - -Since Yesterday....._Chambers’ Journal_ - -ALDRICH, ANNE REEVE: - -An Awakening....._The Rose of Flame_ -Love, the Destroyer.....“ “ - -ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY: - -Sweetheart, Sigh no More....._Wyndham Towers_ -The Faded Violet....._Poems_ - -ANONYMOUS: - -A Song of Love....._Love lies Bleeding_ -At thy Grave. -Et Melle et Felle....._Love in a Mist_ -Lo! in a Dream Love came to Me....._Fraser’s Magazine_ -The Lonely Landscape....._Love lies Bleeding_ -The Outcast.....“ “ - -ARNOLD, SIR EDWIN: - -Song....._The Light of Asia_ - -ARNOLD, MATTHEW: - -Calais Sands....._Poems_ - -ASHE, THOMAS: - -Phantoms....._Poems_ -The Guest.....“ -The Secret.....“ - -AUSTIN, ALFRED: - -If Love could Last....._The Garden that I Love_ - -BARLOW, GEORGE: - -A Journey....._Song Spray_ -If only Thou art True....._From Dawn to Sunset_ -The Ecstasy of the Hair....._A Life’s Love_ - -BEECHING, H. C.: - -The Night Watches....._Love’s Looking-Glass_ - -BENNETT, JOHN: - -In a Rose Garden....._The Chap Book_ - -BLIND, MATHILDE: - -I charge you, O Winds of the West....._A Love Trilogy_ -Song....._Love in Exile_ - -BOURDILLON, F. W.: - -Cæli....._Ailes d’Alouette_ -Love in the Heart.....“ “ - -BRIDGES, ROBERT: - -I will not let Thee go....._The Shorter Poems_ -Long are the Hours.....“ “ - -BROWNING, ROBERT: - -Apparitions....._Poems_ -Porphyria’s Lover.....“ - -BUNNER, H. C.: - -Robin’s Song....._Airs from Arcady_ -The Hour of Shadows.....“ “ - -CARMAN, BLISS: - -Carnations in Winter....._Low Tide on Grand Pré_ -The Eavesdropper.....“ “ - -CARPENTER, HENRY BERNARD: - -The Impossible She....._A Poet’s Last Songs_ - -CAWEIN, MADISON: - -A Dream Shape....._Undertones_ -Unrequited....._Moods and Memories_ - -CLARKE, HERBERT E.: - -In the Wood....._Songs of Exile_ - -COLLIER, THOMAS STEVENS: - -At Love’s Gate....._Song Spray_ - -COLLINS, MORTIMER: - -Birds and Lovers....._Selections from the Poetical Works_ -Dawn.....“ “ “ “ - -COONLEY, LYDIA AVERY: - -Love’s Power....._Under the Pines, and Other Verses_ - -CRANE, WALTER: - -Last Night my Lady talked with Me....._Renascence_ -Love’s Arrows.....“ - -CURWEN, HARRY: - -A Love Song....._French Love Songs, and Other Poems_ - -CUSTANCE, OLIVE: - -The Parting Hour. - -DOBSON, AUSTIN: - -The Sundial....._Old World Idylls, and Other Verses_ - -ELLWANGER, GEORGE H.: - -Spring Song. - -ELLWANGER, W. D.: - -To Jessie’s Dancing Feet....._The Century_ - -GALE, NORMAN R.: - -A Love Song....._Violets_ -A Song.....“ - -GARNETT, RICHARD: - -A Nocturne....._Poems_ -Violets.....“ - -GOSSE, EDMUND WILLIAM: - -A Year....._On Viol and Flute_ -I’ve kissed Thee, Sweetheart....._Firdausi in Exile, and Other Poems_ - -GRAY, JOHN: - -Complaint....._Silverpoints_ -Heart’s Demesne.....“ - -GREENE, G. A.: - -In the Evening....._Italian Lyrists of To-day_ -When the Leaves Fall.....“ “ “ - -GREENWELL, DORA: - -Qui sait aimer, sait mourir....._Poems_ - -GULSTON, A. STEPNEY: - -Song....._Metempsychosis_ - -HALL, GERTRUDE: - -O Knight, if Thou a Lady hast....._Verses_ - -HALL, WILLIAM C.: - -At Last....._Songs in a Minor Key_ - -HANKIN, MARY L.: - -The Old is Better....._Year by Year_ - -HENLEY, W. E.: - -Ballade of Midsummer Days and Nights....._A Book of Verses_ -Oh, gather me the Rose.....“ “ - -HICKEY, EMILY H.: - -Her Dream....._Lyrics and Verse Tales_ - -HILDRETH, CHARLES LOTIN: - -Song....._The Masque of Death, and Other Poems_ -The Tryst.....“ “ “ “ - -HINSHELWOOD, A. ERNEST: - -By one Rapt Day....._Through Starlight to Dawn_ - -HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL: - -The Dilemma....._Poems_ - -HORNE, HERBERT P.: - -The Measure....._Diversi Colores_ - -HUNT, HELEN: - -Two Truths....._Verses_ - -IMAGE, SELWYN: - -A Prayer....._Poems and Carols_ - -JENNER, HENRY: - -A June Storm....._The Spectator_ - -KINGSLEY, CHARLES: - -Dolcino to Margaret....._Poems_ - -LAMPMAN, ARCHIBALD: - -A Ballade of Waiting....._Among the Millet and Other Poems_ -A Forecast.....“ “ “ “ - -LANG, ANDREW: - -An Old Tune....._Ballades and Verses Vain_ -Good-bye....._Grass of Parnassus_ -Metempsychosis....._Ballades and Lyrics of Old France_ - -LE GALLIENNE, RICHARD: - -A Ballade of Old Sweethearts....._My Ladies’ Sonnets_ - -LEVY, AMY: - -In the Mile End Road....._A London Plane Tree, and Other Poems_ - -LINTON, W. J.: - -Love Afraid....._Poems and Translations_ - -LOCKER, FREDERICK: - -To my Mistress....._London Lyrics_ - -LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH: - -It is not always May....._Poetical Works_ - -LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL: - -Auf Wiedersehen....._Poems_ - -LYALL, SIR ALFRED: - -Sequel to “My Queen”....._Verses written in India_ - -LYTTON, ROBERT, LORD: - -If...?....._Marah_ -Omens and Oracles.....“ - -MCCARTHY, JUSTIN HUNTLY: - -The Garden of Memory....._Harlequinade_ - -MACDONALD, GEORGE: - -If I were a Monk and thou wert a Nun....._Poems_ - -MACKAIL, J. W.: - -A Ballade of Colours....._Love’s Looking-Glass_ - -MACKAY, ERIC: - -My Amazon....._Love Letters of a Violinist_ - -MARSTON, PHILIP BOURKE: - -Changed Love....._Wind Voices_ -Summer’s Return....._Song-Tide, and Other Poems_ - -MARSTON, WESTLAND: - -Mine....._Selected Dramatic Work and Poems_ - -MARZIALS, THEO.: - -Aubade....._The Gallery of Pigeons, and Other Poems_ -The Phial and the Philtre.....“ “ “ “ - -MASSEY, GERALD: - -Not I, Sweet Soul, not I....._Love Lyrics_ - -MEREDITH, GEORGE: - -At Dinner she is Hostess....._Modern Love_ -Love within the Lover’s Breast. - -MONKHOUSE, COSMO: - -A Dead March....._Corn and Poppies_ - -MORRIS, LEWIS: - -Fair Star that on the Shoulder of yon Hill....._Gwen_ -Thy Shadow, O Tardy Night.....“ - -MORRIS, WILLIAM: - -The First Lyric....._Love is Enough_ -The Concluding Lyric.....“ “ - -MOULTON, LOUISE CHANDLER: - -Beside a Bier....._In the Garden of Dreams_ -Hereafter.....“ “ “ - -MURRAY, GEORGE: - -Fortunio’s Song....._Verses and Versions_ - -NESBIT, E. (MRS. HUBERT BLAND): - -Splendide Mendax....._Lays and Legends, Second Series_ -The Kiss....._Leaves of Life_ -The Mill....._Lays and Legends, Second Series_ - -NICHOLS, J. B. B.: - -A Pastoral....._Love in Idleness_ -Vigilate Itaque.....“ “ - -NOBLE, JAMES ASHCROFT: - -The Horizon....._Verses of a Prose Writer_ - -O’CONNOR, JOSEPH: - -Shadows....._Poems_ - -O’SHAUGHNESSY, ARTHUR: - -A Farewell....._Music and Moonlight_ -Song.....“ “ -Supreme Summer.....“ “ - -PARKER, GILBERT: - -As One would stand who saw a Sudden Light....._A Lover’s Diary_ - -PATMORE, COVENTRY: - -Departure....._The Unknown Eros_ - -PAYNE, JOHN: - -Cadences....._Songs of Life and Death_ -Chant Royal of the God of Love....._New Poems_ -False Spring....._Songs of Life and Death_ - -PERRY, NORA: - -In June....._After the Ball, and Other Poems_ - -PFEIFFER, EMILY: - -A Song of Winter. - -PHILLIPS, STEPHEN: - -To a Lost Love....._Primavera_ - -PHILPOT, WILLIAM: - -Prince of Painters, come, I pray. - -PINKERTON, PERCY C.: - -A Lagoon Message....._Galeazzo, and Other Poems_ - -POLLOCK, WALTER HERRIES: - -A Conquest....._New and Old_ -The Devout Lover.....“ “ - -PROBYN, MAY: - -Ballade of Lovers....._A Ballade of the Road, and Other Poems_ - -RAWNSLEY, HARDWICK DRUMMOND: - -In a Garden....._Poems, Ballads, and Bucolics_ - -REESE, LIZETTE WOODWORTH: - -A Song for Candlemas....._A Handful of Lavender_ - -RHYS, ERNEST: - -A Dream of Diana....._A London Rose, and Other Rhymes_ - -RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB: - -When She comes Home....._Old-Fashioned Roses_ - -ROBINSON, A. MARY F. (MADAME JAMES DARMESTETER): - -Poplar Leaves....._Lyrics_ - -ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA G.: - -After Death....._Poems_ -Somewhere or Other.....“ - -ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL: - -First Love Remembered....._The House of Life_ -Love Enthroned.....“ “ -Sudden Light.....“ “ - -SCOLLARD, CLINTON: - -A Perfect Day....._The Hills of Song_ - -SCOTT, CLEMENT: - -Rus in Urbe....._Lays and Lyrics_ - -SHARP, WILLIAM: - -Song. -The Coming of Love....._The Pagan Review_ - -SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND: - -Recall....._Poems_ - -SPOFFORD, HARRIET PRESCOTT: - -Fantasia....._Poems_ -Only a Leaf.....“ - -STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE: - -Song from a Drama....._Poems_ - -STORY, W. W.: - -The Violet....._Poems_ - -STRANGE, EDWARD FAIRBROTHER: - -To my Lady....._Palissy in Prison, and Other Verses_ - -SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES: - -At Parting....._Poems and Ballads, Second Series_ -August....._Laus Veneris_ -Between the Sunset and the Sea....._Chastelard_ -The Oblation....._Songs before Sunrise_ - -SYMONS, ARTHUR: - -On Judge’s Walk....._Silhouettes_ - -SYMONDS, JOHN ADDINGTON: - -Ich hör’ es sogar im Traum....._New and Old_ -Oh, when will it be?....._The Spirit Lamp_ - -TEMPLE, STEPHEN: - -Ballade of the Ladyes of Long Syne. - -TENNYSON, ALFRED, LORD: - -Fatima....._Poems_ -Now sleeps the Crimson Petal.....“ -The Window; or the Songs of the Wrens.....“ - -THOMAS, EDITH M.: - -Valentine....._Lyrics and Sonnets_ - -THOMPSON, FRANCIS: - -Dream Tryst....._Poems_ - -THOMPSON, MAURICE: - -Atalanta....._Songs of Fair Weather_ - -THOMSON, JAMES: - -A Song of Thanksgiving....._Sunday up the River_ -Day after Day of this Azure May....._Sunday at Hampstead_ - -TODHUNTER, JOHN: - -The Song of Tristram....._The Second Book of the Rhymers’ Club_ - -TOMSON, GRAHAM R. (ROSAMUND MARRIOTT WATSON): - -Aubade....._A Summer Night, and Other Poems_ -Love the Guest....._The Bird Bride_ - -TURNER, CHARLES TENNYSON: - -A Blush at Farewell....._Collected Sonnets_ -The Kiss of Betrothal.....“ “ -The Parting-Gate.....“ “ - -TYNAN, KATHERINE: - -Irish Love Song....._Irish Love Songs_ - -TYTLER, C. C. FRASER (MRS. EDWARD LIDDELL): - -Good-Night....._Songs in Minor Keys_ - -VENABLE, WILLIAM H.: - -I know ’tis Late, but let Me stay....._Melodies of the Heart_ - -WALSH, EDWARD: - -Cashel of Munster....._Irish Love Songs_ - -WARREN, JOHN LEICESTER (LORD DE TABLEY): - -Daffodils....._Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical_ - -WATSON, ROSAMUND MARRIOTT (GRAHAM R. TOMSON): - -Ave atque Vale....._Vespertilia, and Other Verses_ -Epitaph.....“ “ “ “ - -WATSON, WILLIAM: - -A Golden Hour....._Lachrymæ Musarum, and Other Poems_ -And These--are These indeed the End?....._Poems_ - -WATTS, THEODORE: -A Dream....._Aylwin_ -The First Kiss....._Sonnets_ - -WHITE, GLEESON: - -Sufficiency. - -WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF: - -Benedicite....._Poems_ - -WOLLASTON, J. T. BURTON: - -My Violet....._Golden Hours_ - -WRATISLAW, THEODORE: - -Asleep....._Orchids_ -Swimming Song.....“ - -YEATS, W. B.: - -The Peace of the Rose....._The Countess Kathleen, and Various Legends and Lyrics_ - -YOUNG, WILLIAM: - -The Bridal Pair....._Wishmakers’ Town_ -The Triflers.....“ “ - - - - - -INDEX OF FIRST LINES - - -.....PAGE - -A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, 290 - -A hundred years from now, dear heart, 24 - -A little love, of Heaven a little share, 294 - -All glorious as the Rainbow’s birth, 153 - -All the phantoms of the future, all the spectres, 136 - -Alone, alone, thro’ the sunny street, 87 - -And these--are these indeed the end, 291 - -Ask nothing more of me, sweet, 251 - -As one would stand who saw a sudden light, 193 - -At dinner she is hostess, I am host, 155 - -A thousand knights have rein’d their steeds, 9 - -Azure of sky and silver of cloud, 181 - - -Barb’d blossom of the guarded gorse, 207 - -Because thou wast cold and proud, 306 - -Beneath the loveliest dream there coils a fear, 292 - -Between the pansies and the rye, 102 - -Between the sunset and the sea, 249 - -Bland air and leagues of immemorial blue, 230 - -By one rapt day Love doth his harvest mete, 98 - - -Cold blows the wind against the hill, 75 - -Come, oh, come to me, voice or look, or spirit, 22 - -Comrades! in vain ye seek to learn, 168 - -Countess, I see the flying year, 118 - - -“Darling,” he said, “I never meant”, 103 - -Dawn, with flusht foot upon the mountain tops, 54 - -Day after day of this azure May, 269 - -Dear, let me dream of love, 104 - - -Fair star that on the shoulder of yon hill, 160 - -Far away hangs an apple that ripens on high, 45 - -Farewell my Youth! for now we needs must part, 286 - -Fold your arms around me, Sweet, 92 - -For a day and night, Love sang to us, played, 244 - -For the man was she made by the Eden tree, 216 - -From out the past she comes to me, 243 - - -God’s love and peace be with thee, where, 295 - -Gone!, 262 - - -Has summer come without the rose, 186 - -Hath any loved you well down there, 183 - -Herald of peace and joy, 68 - -Her tears are all thine own! how blest thou art!, 275 - -How, as a spider’s web is spun, 70 - -How like her! But ’tis she herself, 116 - -How many lips have uttered one sweet word--, 96 - - -“I burn my soul away!”, 83 - -I cannot look upon thy grave, 209 - -I charge you, O winds of the West, 26 - -I dared not lead my arm around, 117 - -I did not dream that Love would stay, 273 - -I’d send a troop of kisses to entangle, 21 - -If in thine eyes, 123 - -If I were a monk, and thou wert a nun, 138 - -If Love could last, if Love could last, 15 - -If love were like a thrush’s song, 84 - -If Michael, leader of God’s host, 304 - -If only a single Rose is left, 20 - -If only in dreams may man be fully blest, 293 - -I found him openly wearing her token, 214 - -If stars were really watching eyes, 29 - -If thou canst make the frost be gone, 263 - -I had never kissed her her whole life long, 166 - -I have been here before, 229 - -I know not if moonlight or starlight, 239 - -I know ’tis late, but let me stay, 281 - -I marked all kindred Powers the heart finds fair, 228 - -In after years a twilight ghost shall fill, 167 - -In and out the osier beds, all along the shallows, 234 - -In a still room at hush of dawn, 43 - -In dream I saw Diana pass, Diana as of old, 221 - -In that old beech-walk, now bestrewn with mast, 277 - -In that tranced hush when sound sank awed, 148 - -I question with the amber daffodils, 285 - -I saw young Love make trial of his bow, 59 - -I shall not see thee, nay, but I shall know, 113 - -I sit alone and watch the cinders glare, 81 - -It is not mine to sing the stately grace, 215 - -It is over now, she is gone to rest, 279 - -It was not like your great and gracious ways, 194 - -It was with doubt and trembling, 5 - -I’ve kissed thee, sweetheart, in a dream at least, 78 - -I will not let thee go, 31 - -I will not say my true love’s eyes, 73 - -I would wed you dear, without gold or gear, 283 - - -Keen winds of cloud and vaporous drift, 74 - -Kiss me, and say good-bye, 111 - - -Last night my lady talked with me, 57 - -Lids closed and pale, with parted lips she lay, 300 - -Lights Love, the timorous bird, to dwell, 13 - -Listen, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes, 80 - -Lo! in a dream Love came to me and cried, 310 - -Long are the hours the sun is above, 33 - -Love had forgotten and gone to sleep, 3 - -Love in my heart! oh, heart of me, heart of me!, 233 - -Love in the heart is as a nightingale, 30 - -Love is a Fire, 4 - -Love is enough: ho, ye who seek saving, 163 - -Love is enough: though the World be a-waning, 162 - -“Love me, or I am slain!” I cried, and meant, 236 - -Love within the lover’s breast, 156 - - -Men, women, call thee so and so, 79 - -My days are full of pleasant memories, 11 - -My lady has a casket cut, 151 - -My life its secret and its mystery has, 14 - -My love and I among the mountains strayed, 176 - -My Love is a lady fair and free, 143 - -My love is the flaming sword, to fight through, 268 - - -Nay! if thou must depart, thou shalt depart, 8 - -No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wrought, 107 - -Not now, but later, when the road, 213 - -Not yet, dear love, not yet: the sun is high, 62 - -Now, by the blessed Paphian queen, 99 - -Now lay thee down to sleep, and dream of me, 288 - -Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 260 - - -O birds, ’twas not well done of you!, 203 - -O brown lark, loving cloud-land best, 53 - -O heart full of song in the sweet song-weather, 188 - -Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, 241 - -Oh, gather me the rose, the rose, 91 - -Oh, to think, oh, to think as I see her stand there, 72 - -Oh, when will it be, oh, when will it be, oh, when, 255 - -Oh, would, oh, would that thou and I, 180 - -O knight, if thou a lady hast, 85 - -O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!, 258 - -O most fair God, O Love both new and old, 199 - -Once more I walk mid summer days, as one, 147 - - -Passion? not hers who fixed me with pure eyes, 49 - -Peace in her chamber, wheresoe’er, 227 - -Play me a march low-toned and slow, 157 - -Poets are singing, the whole world over, 231 - -Prince of painters, come, I pray, 211 - - -She went with morning down the wood, 141 - -Sing on, sing on: half dreaming still, 253 - -Somewhere or other there must surely be, 226 - -So sweet, so sweet the roses in their blowing, 205 - -So you but love me, be it your own way, 133 - -Such a starved bank of moss, 35 - -Sullenly fell the rain while under the oak we stood, 105 - -Sweet as the change from pleasant thoughts, 97 - - -Tell me wher, in what contree, is, 256 - -That night on Judge’s Walk the wind, 252 - -The ancient memories buried lie, 196 - -The breaths of kissing night and day, 265 - -The broad green rollers lift and glide, 301 - -The cowslip glowed, the tulip burned, 218 - -The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept, 225 - -The fire is smouldering while the daylight wanes, 55 - -The lights are out in the street, and a cool wind, 271 - -The little gate was reached at last, 127 - -The mavis sang but yesterday, 1 - -The place again, 124 - -The rain set early in to-night, 36 - -There is a certain garden where I know, 137 - -There is an air for which I would disown, 110 - -There’s never a rose upon the bush, 220 - -The restless years that come and go, 178 - -There were four apples on the bough, 246 - -The same green hill, the same blue sea, 19 - -The snow is white on wood and wold, 172 - -The star of love is trembling in the west, 270 - -The sun is bright,--the air is clear, 120 - -The wheel goes round, the wheel goes round, 174 - -The wind blows down the dusty street, 224 - -The world goes up and the world goes down, 106 - -Though the roving bee as lightly, 305 - -Thou walkest with me as the spirit-light, 28 - -Thou wilt come back again, but not for me, 126 - -Through laughing leaves the sunlight comes, 50 - -Thy shadow, O tardy night, 161 - -Time with his jealous icy blast, 60 - -’Tis an old dial, dark with many a stain, 64 - - -Upon that quiet day that lies, 41 - -Up, up, my heart! up, up, my heart, 39 - - -Vine, vine and eglantine, 261 - - -Waves the soft grass at my feet, 307 - -We’re all alone, we’re all alone, 237 - -What days await this woman whose strange feet, 109 - -What hast thou done to me, 122 - -What thought is folded in thy leaves, 6 - -When did the change come, dearest Heart, 145 - -When fair Hyperion dons his night attire, 149 - -When God some day shall call my name, 170 - -When I shall stand before the judgment throne, 86 - -When lovers’ lips from kissing disunite, 276 - -When she comes home again! A thousand ways, 223 - -When spring grows old, and sleepy winds, 267 - -When the hot wasp hung in the grape last year, 76 - -When the late leaves lit all the place, 238 - -When the leaves fall in autumn, and you go, 82 - -When violets blue begin to blow, 298 - -Who is it that weeps for the last year’s flowers, 114 - -With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams, 89 - -With moon-white hearts that held a gleam, 47 - -Would God I were the tender apple-blossom, 278 - - -Yes, but the years run circling fleeter, 130 - -Your carmine flakes of bloom to-night, 42 - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love's Old Sweet Song, by -George H. 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(George Herman) Ellwanger - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Love's Old Sweet Song - -Author: George H. (George Herman) Ellwanger - -Release Date: February 10, 2017 [EBook #54148] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE'S OLD SWEET SONG *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MFR and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="338" height="500" alt="[Image -of the book's cover unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td><p class="c"><span class="smcap"> -<a href="#INDEX">Index</a><br /> -<a href="#INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES">Index of First Lines</a>:<small> -<a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Y">Y</a>.</small><br /> -<a href="#List_of_Poems">List of Poems in Order</a></span> -</p> -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="c"> -<big>LOVE’S OLD SWEET SONG</big><br /> -<small> -A SHEAF OF LATTER-DAY LOVE-POEMS<br /> -GARNERED FROM MANY SOURCES</small> -</p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="cb"><span class="eng">Books by the Same Author</span></p> - -<p class="c">——</p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Garden’s Story, or Pleasures and Trials of an Amateur Gardener</span></p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Story of My House</span></p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">In Gold and Silver</span></p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Rose.</span> By H. B. Ellwanger. Revised edition, with an Introduction -by George H. Ellwanger.</p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Idyllists of the Country-Side</span></p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Love’s Demesne</span></p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Meditations on Gout</span></p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Pleasures of the Table</span></p> -</div> - -<h1> -<a href="images/title_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/title.jpg" width="322" height="550" alt="LOVE’S -OLD SWEET SONG - -A SHEAF OF - -Latter-Day Love-Poems - -Gathered from Many Sources - -BY - -GEORGE H. ELLWANGER - -New York - -Dodd-Mead -and -Company - -1903" /></a></h1> - -<p class="c"> -<span class="itlc">Copyright, 1903</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Dodd, Mead and Company</span>.<br /> -<br /> -<span class="itlc">All rights reserved.</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span class="itlc">Copyright, 1896</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Dodd, Mead and Company,<br /> -as “Love’s Demesne.”</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span class="eng">University Press:</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.</span><br /> -<br /><br /><br /> -TO<br /> -THE MEMORY OF<br /> -<br /> -GLEESON WHITE, ESQ.<br /> -<br /> -<span class="eng">In Friendliest Regard</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a name="ENVOY" id="ENVOY"></a><span class="itlc">ENVOY.</span></h2> - -<div class="poetryitlc"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>ESOUND, ye strains, attuned by master-fingers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That breathe so fondly Love’s consuming fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some sweet and subtle as a chord that lingers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some grave and plaintive as the heart’s desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like June’s gay laughter thro’ the woodlands ringing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These hymn the Present’s gladsome roundelay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Autumn grieves when choirs have ceased their singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those voice their haunting burden, “Well-a-day!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, past or present, who the power would banish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That charms or blights, that blesses or that mars:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To happy lovers, how may Love e’er vanish,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hearts forlorn, how hallowed are his scars!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PUBLISHERS_NOTE" id="PUBLISHERS_NOTE"></a>PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letraf">I</span>N this Anthology is included in more convenient form the greater -portion of the poems contained in the two volumes entitled “Love’s -Demesne,” now out of print. The present collection has been carefully -revised by the Compiler, and like its predecessor occupies an entirely -distinct field, most of the selections being otherwise only accessible -in the volumes where they originally appeared, and the major part being -by living lyrists.</p> - -<h2><a name="ACKNOWLEDGMENT" id="ACKNOWLEDGMENT"></a>ACKNOWLEDGMENT.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letraf">T</span>HE sincere thanks of the Editor are due, not only to those American -authors who have graciously allowed the reproduction of their poems, but -equally to the numerous British living poets whose graceful verses -appear in the following pages. In but one instance on the part of a -native author, and in but one instance on the part of a publisher, was -permission to include poems refused. With these exceptions the Compiler -has received the most cordial assistance from holders of copyrights. It -becomes a personal pleasure, therefore, to thank the following in -particular for their uniform courtesy, without which many a flowing -measure contained in “Love’s Old Sweet Song” must necessarily have been -omitted: Messrs. <span class="smcap">Houghton, Mifflin & Co.</span>, <span class="smcap">Roberts Bros.</span>, <span class="smcap">Charles -Scribner’s Sons</span>, <span class="smcap">Macmillan & Co.</span>, <span class="smcap">G. P. Putnam’s Sons</span>, <span class="smcap">Stone & Kimball</span>, -<span class="smcap">J. G. Cupples</span>, <span class="smcap">Belford, Clarke & Co.</span>, <span class="smcap">D. Lothrop & Co.</span>, <span class="smcap">Copeland & Day</span>, -<span class="smcap">Henry Holt & Co.</span>, <span class="smcap">R. Worthington & Co.</span>, <span class="smcap">Way & Williams</span>, <span class="smcap">Longmans, Green -& Co.</span> To these and other publishers, to the sonorous choir of the poets -quoted from, and, finally, to Mr. <span class="smcap">Gleeson White</span> and Mr. <span class="itlc">Edmund Clarence -Stedman</span>, the Compiler tenders his most grateful acknowledgments.</p> - -<h2><a name="A_PASSING_WORD" id="A_PASSING_WORD"></a>A PASSING WORD.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letraf">B</span>EARING in mind the assertion of Monsieur de Milcourt, that prefaces for -the most part seem only made in order to “impose” upon the reader, a -brief foreword will suffice to explain the scope of the following pages.</p> - -<p>As will be apparent at a glance, the selections are all from modern, and -largely from living poets; the dominant chord is lyrical; and in the -general unisance the minor prevails over the major key. No excuse seems -called for in presenting a new anthology; for, given the same theme, -each compiler must of necessity present a different score, subject to -individual taste and preferences. “To apologize for a new anthology is -but one degree less sensible than to prepare it,” pertinently remarks -the editor of <span class="itlc">Ballades and Rondeaus</span>. Such were but another case of -<span class="itlc">qui s’excuse, s’accuse</span>. It may be observed, nevertheless, that the -path of the compiler is far from being strewn with flowers. Indeed, it -has been truly said that Æsop’s old man and boy with the donkey had not -a harder task than the maker of selections and collections of verses.</p> - -<p>Of recent years a number of excellent anthologies have been published on -a similar theme. But these deal mainly with the rhythmic fancies of the -elder bards, or in fewer instances, combine the older and the younger -schools. In the present instance the editor has been guided solely by -his own taste or predilections, having had no recourse to other -collections, beyond that of avoiding <span class="itlc">excerpta</span> too oft repeated; the -aim being so far as possible to include such examples of merit as are -not generally familiar to the average lover of poetry. Whether these be -by well-known authors, or by those who are little known, has not entered -into consideration, the prime object being to present as intrinsically -meritorious a collection, by both British and American modern lyrists, -as is possible within the limits of the space at command.</p> - -<p>The writer is not aware of a similar compilation having been previously -attempted, there being few who would care to brave the “omissions” that -must naturally be thrust at one’s door, more especially in the case of -an abstract from the works of living writers. Yet while fault may be -found, perchance, on the score of selection both by those who may be -excluded, as well as by those who are included, the editor of an -anthology should at least be thanked for placing many selections before -the reader that in the ordinary course of things he would miss,—either -through lack of time, or the inability to possess or consult the -multitudinous volumes he would be called upon to peruse.</p> - -<p>“The purchasing public for poetry,” says Mr. Lang, “must now consist -chiefly of poets, and they are usually poor.” The anthologist is the -bee, therefore, to extract the honey from the fragrant garland of song, -at the least fatigue to the reader. For every poet has not a hive of -sweets to draw from; and though the blooms be many in the parterre of -poesy, still these require to be plucked with reference not only to -individual beauty, but to general harmony as well. A single line may -sadly mar an otherwise flawless verse, as a single sonnet rendered -immortal the name of Félix Arvers. Many no doubt will miss some -favourites. Of such it may be observed that not a few lovely apostrophes -have been omitted on account of too great length, or, as previously -stated, owing to their being familiar to the great majority of readers. -Some poems, moreover, beautiful in themselves, have not been included, -despite their intrinsic merits, because they seemed to be out of accord -with the prevailing key, as in the case of numerous lyrics approaching -the form of so-termed <span class="itlc">Vers de Société</span>. Still others, and many of these -extremely beautiful amatory poems, somewhat free in <span class="itlc">motif</span> or -treatment, have been excluded as not fulfilling the precise requirements -of the present collection; these were more appropriate grouped in a -volume by themselves.</p> - -<p>A few translations only have been admitted; the satisfactory translation -of verse being an art by itself, demanding special qualifications -possessed only by the few. But though it is not often that a rendition -does not suffer when compared with its original, it is equally true that -in some hands a transcription may equal if not surpass its prototype. -Witness, for example, Mr. Andrew Lang’s graceful stanzas entitled “An -Old Tune,” adapted from Gérard de Nerval’s dreamy <span class="itlc">Fantaisie</span>, and which -although very closely rendered fully equal the original in colour and -fragrance, while surpassing it in melodiousness and rhythm. Nearly as -much might be said of Mr. Edmund Gosse’s version of Théophile de Viau’s -lovely sonnet, <span class="itlc">Au moins ay-ie songé que ie vous ay baisée</span>, as also of -the late Thomas Ashe’s phrasing of <span class="itlc">Ma vie a son secret, mon âme a son -mystère</span>, which has been so variously rendered by various translators.</p> - -<p>With Waller’s “Go, lovely rose,” Herrick’s “Gather ye roses,” Ford’s -“There is a lady sweet and kind,” and many another harmonious measure of -Lily, Lodge, Lovelace, Campion, Carew, and the rest of them ringing in -our ears, what comparison shall be made with the modern laureates of -love? Whether the latter indeed chant as sweetly as the Elizabethan -meistersingers and their successors under the Restoration, is a question -it were perhaps wiser to pass, from lack of space to dwell upon, leaving -the reader to form his own opinion. There are those who hold to the -contrary; there are others who in the best of existent love-poetry find -conceits as colourful, rhythm as resonant, and inspiration as melodious -as is still echoed from the sweetest strains of the Elizabethan lyre. -Rather, to each let that merit be accorded which is its due. The old -songs, like all truly beautiful things of eld, possess the puissant -stamp of endurance and the approval of the centuries, added to that -indefinable charm which age alone may impart; the new must yet be -mellowed and adjudged by Time.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered, too, that it is the <span class="itlc">best</span> of the ancient songs -we know and love so well; that if the entire verse of almost any olden -bard be closely scanned, it will be found, in very numerous instances, -of a widely uneven quality, with many a limping line, strained conceit, -or halting measure to offend. Song did not mount to the strain of merle -or mavis, or sing itself in the past with greater ease than is the case -at present. Greater freedom it possessed; and in the method more than in -the matter the chief distinction lies. This distinction between the -past-masters and the bards of the present is deftly set forth by Edmund -Gosse in his poem, “Impression,”—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">“If we could dare to write as ill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As some whose voices haunt us still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even we, perchance, might call our own<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their deep enchanting undertone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We are too diffident and nice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too learnèd and too overwise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too much afraid of faults to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flutes of bold sincerity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, as this sweet life passes by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We blink and nod with critic eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ve no words rude enough to give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its charm so frank and fugitive.”<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">The term “ill” which is applied to the ancient versifiers in the above -lines were perhaps better rendered by the qualification “bold.” It is in -this boldness, vigour, and fire that the distinguishing difference -largely consists. And in the striving for new effects, when the present -aims to reproduce the past, these qualities are usually lacking in their -pristine fervour; while the latter-day impressionist and symbolist is -frequently so vague as to be well-nigh unintelligible.</p> - -<p>The sentiment underlying the expression of the lyrist of to-day does not -differ materially, after all, from that of his remote predecessor. The -pitch and <span class="itlc">timbre</span> of modern poetry are somewhat altered, to be sure. -There is less personality, less freedom,—shall I say a certain naïve -grace and spontaneous virility are wanting in existent verse as compared -with Elizabethan song? though in general the latter-day lyrist is the -superior craftsman in rhyme. The most marked variation between the two -periods is that the so-called Elizabethan poets for the most part wrote -their songs to be sung,—“music married to immortal verse.” The lilt and -blitheness of these are individual; and these qualities we are apt to -miss, in their primal grace, in many a love-song of the present.</p> - -<p>So far as the prevailing spirit of love itself is concerned, this has -undergone no change, unless that evolved by the natural refining -processes of time. Human nature must be human nature still; and passion -in the human heart exists unaltered in its essence. We may not have -another Herrick, nor may we summon another Tennyson; the breeze of -summer blows not twice alike in its passage through the woodland keys. -But there must always remain new chords to be sounded while the most -potent of verbs remains to be conjugated. The poets pass away, yet Love -is ever new; and so long as the seasons endure and new days dawn, the -tuneful choir will chant in infinite variation,—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Methinks no leaf would ever bud in spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But for the lovers’ lips that kiss, the poets’ lips that sing.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">The darts of Eros’ quiver are just as numerous and deftly feathered as -of yore. Only there are more hearts to hit, with proportionally more -registrars to chronicle the passage of his shafts. Still, as of old, the -exhortation, <span class="itlc">Carpe Diem!</span> reverberates through the poet’s page; the -rose likewise hath not lost her fragrance, or the violet her perfume; -and still, despite stings and thorns, kisses and favours remain sweet -things.</p> - -<p>Writing love-lyrics is less a momentous occupation now than in the times -of doublet and hose. It is fair to assume, notwithstanding, that many a -charming fantasy in verse, many an ethereal flight winged from modern -lover to modern mistress, never sees the light of the printed page, as -was far less the case in ancient days; but remains inviolate with the -person by whom it was inspired. Could we obtain access to many -passionate apostrophes that exist but in manuscript alone, cherished or -known only by the sender and recipient, what a fragrant garland were -ours!</p> - -<p>Recurring to the comparison already touched upon, Cupid and Campaspe -have not ceased to play their game of cards; while the admonition to -Lesbia to “live and love” will continue to be current coin amid the -“golden cadences” of all time. For,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What to him is snow or rime,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Who calls his love his own?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">It were difficult, in truth, to wrest from Waller his “girdle” of -immortal fame, or for any twentieth-century laureate to excel Jonson’s -spirited pledge, “To Celia,” or to vie with the sublime strain of -Herrick’s “Bid me to live.” And who shall surpass the delicate lacelike -grace of Lodge’s “Love in my bosom like a bee,” “My bonny lass! thine -eye,” and his still more impassioned rendition of the charms of -“Rosalind”?</p> - -<p>Who, too, shall outsoar the plumèd flight of Heywood’s “Pack clouds -away,” or transcend the birdlike carol of Davenant, “The lark now leaves -his wat’ry nest”? And where shall we look for a rival to Marvell’s “Had -we but world enough and time,” or the music and dainty conceit of -Carew’s “Ask me no more where Jove bestows”? These, and how many, many -more, pulsate with the sweetness and plaintiveness of a zither touched -by master fingers. Reading them as they attune and chant themselves -despite the lapse of centuries, they recall the picture Glapthorne so -vividly depicts of a <span class="itlc">Gentleman playing on the Lute</span>:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Whose numerous fingers whiter farre<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Than Venus swans or ermines are<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Wag’d with the amorous strings a Warre,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">But such a Warre as did invite<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The sense of Hearing, and the Sight<br /></span> -<span class="i1">To riot in a full delight.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>A review of the following pages, on the other hand, will disclose many a -delicious wild-flower that, alike in form and hue, is a stranger to the -gardens of the past. It is perhaps unfair to individualise; but for the -sake of comparison solely, a few instances may be cited with no -disparagement to the excellence of the whole of which they form a part. -So far as musical sweetness of tone, elevated sentiment, and facility of -rhythmic utterance are concerned, Tennyson and Swinburne stand -unequalled in their special spheres. The short lyric, however, does not -occur nearly as frequently with the latter as with the former, who -abounds in pure love-lays, fluid and tender as a thrush’s song. What -more fragrantly exquisite than “Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the -white,” or indeed the scores of <span class="itlc">amoretti</span> with which he has added to -“golden numbers, golden numbers”! With Shakespeare and Milton a master -of the sonnet, a large portion of Rossetti’s shorter pieces have been -expressed in this his favourite vehicle of verse. Surely the music of -song, even though it be in sonnet form, has not suffered a decline when -such impassioned chords are heard as vibrate amid “The House of Life.” -But acting on prescribed lines, the sonnet in consequence has been but -sparingly employed in this collection.</p> - -<p>Surely, too, there is a grace as fine as that of the choir of Elizabeth -and James, in such airy flights as, “Love on my heart from heaven fell,” -“Sweetheart, sigh no more,” “I breathe my heart in the heart of the -rose,” and “Up, up, my heart!” Again, we must search long for as -powerful a love lyric as <span class="itlc">Splendide Mendax</span>, or the haunting cadences -that rise and fall, sonata-like, throughout “A Dead March.” And how -exquisite the simple lines to a star of Mr. Garnett, the rhapsody “Oh to -think, oh to think” of Mr. Gale, Mr. Bridges’ “Long are the hours the -sun is above,” Mathilde Blind’s “I charge you, O winds of the West,” -Arthur O’Shaughnessy’s “Has summer come without the rose,” or the -chivalrous notes of Mr. Pollock’s “It is not mine to sing the stately -grace”! And these are not exceptions or individual instances, but -merely a few examples taken at random for the sake of illustration. It -is more the lack of the musicians, it would seem, than any want of -suitable pieces to be set to music, that must account for the decadence -of “Song” proper, since the ancient days of lute and lyre.</p> - -<p>No great poet sings because he must sing, we are told; a great poet -sings because he chooses to sing. Let us thank the truly great, -therefore, for so choosing, and the lesser in proportion, on the -principle of receiving all favours thankfully according to their merit -and degree. Meanwhile, in the various phases of Love as portrayed so -musically by the full-throated choir in the subjoined pages, the reader -may peradventure read and learn. For, as voiced by Owen Meredith,—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“To mock the faith that lovers place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In life’s acquired love lore,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">New lessons, latest-learned, efface<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old teachings taught before.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth">G. H. E.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h1>LOVE’S OLD SWEET SONG.</h1> - -<h2><a name="SINCE_YESTERDAY" id="SINCE_YESTERDAY"></a>SINCE YESTERDAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE mavis sang but yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="ih">A strain that thrilled through autumn’s dearth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He read the music of his lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In light and leaf, and heaven and earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind-flowers by the wayside swung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words of the music that was sung.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In all his song the shade and sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of earth and heaven seemed to meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its joy and sorrow were as one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its very sadness was but sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sang of summers yet to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You listened to his song with me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heart makes sunshine in the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or winter in the midst of May;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though the mavis sings again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His self-same song of yesterday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I find no gladness in his tone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day I listen here alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And—even our sunniest moment takes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such shadows of the bliss we knew—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day his throbbing song awakes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But wistful, haunting thoughts of you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its very sweetness is but sad:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You gave it all the joy it had.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">A. St. J. Adcock.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AN_AWAKENING" id="AN_AWAKENING"></a>AN AWAKENING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE had forgotten and gone to sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Love had forgotten the present and past.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I was so glad when he ceased to weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Now he is quiet,” I whispered, “at last.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What sent you here on that night of all nights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breaking his slumber, dreamless and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just as I whispered below my breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Love has forgotten and gone to sleep”?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Anne Reeve Aldrich.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVE_THE_DESTROYER" id="LOVE_THE_DESTROYER"></a>LOVE, THE DESTROYER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><span class="letra2">L</span>OVE is a Fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor Shame nor Pride can well withstand Desire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“For what are they,” we cry, “that they should dare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To keep, O Love, the haughty look they wear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, burn the victims, O thou sacred Fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That with their death thou mayst but flame the higher.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let them feel once the fierceness of thy breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make thee still more beauteous with their death.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Love is a Fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah, how short-lived is the flame Desire!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, having burnt whatever once we cherished,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blackened all things else, itself hath perished.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now alone in gathering night we stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ashes and ruin stretch on either hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet while we mourn, our sad hearts whisper low:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“We served the mightiest God that man can know.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Anne Reeve Aldrich.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SWEETHEART_SIGH_NO_MORE" id="SWEETHEART_SIGH_NO_MORE"></a>SWEETHEART, SIGH NO MORE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was with doubt and trembling<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I whispered in her ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go, take her answer, bird-on-bough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the world may hear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="itlc">Sweetheart, sigh no more!</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing it, sing it, tawny throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the wayside tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How fair she is, how true she is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How dear she is to me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="itlc">Sweetheart, sigh no more!</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing it, sing it, tawny throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the summer long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winds among the clover-tops,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brooks, for all their silvery stops,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall envy you the song—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="itlc">Sweetheart, sigh no more!</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FADED_VIOLET" id="THE_FADED_VIOLET"></a>THE FADED VIOLET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT thought is folded in thy leaves!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">What tender thought, what speechless pain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hold thy faded lips to mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou darling of the April rain!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hold thy faded lips to mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though scent and azure tint are fled—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O dry, mute lips! ye are the type<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of something in me cold and dead:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of something wilted like thy leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of fragrance flown, of beauty dim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet for the love of those white hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That found thee by a river’s brim—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That found thee when thy dewy mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was purpled as with stains of wine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love of her who love forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hold thy faded lips to mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That thou shouldst live when I am dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When hate is dead, for me, and wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this I use my subtlest art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For this I fold thee in my song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG6" id="SONG6"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>AY! if thou must depart, thou shalt depart;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">But why so soon, oh, heart-blood of my heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go then! Yet, going, turn and stay thy feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I may once more see that face so sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more—if never more; for swift days go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As hastening waters from their fountains flow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whether yet again shall meeting be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who knows? Who knows? Ah! turn once more to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Sir Edwin Arnold.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CALAIS_SANDS" id="CALAIS_SANDS"></a>CALAIS SANDS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> THOUSAND knights have rein’d their steeds<br /></span> -<span class="ih">To watch this line of sand hills run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the never-silent strait,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Calais, glittering in the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To look tow’rd Ardres’ Golden Field<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the wide aerial plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which glows as if the Middle Age<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were gorgeous upon earth again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, that to share this famous scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I saw, upon the open sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy lovely presence at my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy shawl, thy look, thy smile, thy hand!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How exquisite thy voice would come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My darling, on this lonely air!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweetly would the fresh sea-breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shake loose some band of soft brown hair!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet now my glance but once hath roved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er Calais and its famous plain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To England’s cliffs my gaze is turn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the blue strait mine eyes I strain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou comest! Yes! the vessel’s cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hangs dark upon the rolling sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, that yon sea-bird’s wings were mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To win one instant’s glimpse of thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I must not spring to grasp thy hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To woo thy smile, to seek thine eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I may stand far off, and gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watch thee pass unconscious by,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And spell thy looks, and guess thy thoughts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mixt with the idlers on the pier.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, might I always rest unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So I might have thee always near!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-morrow hurry through the fields<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Flanders to the storied Rhine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-night those soft-fringed eyes shall close<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath one roof, my queen! with mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PHANTOMS" id="PHANTOMS"></a>PHANTOMS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y days are full of pleasant memories<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">Of all those women sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom I have known! How tenderly their eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flash thro’ the days—too fleet!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which long ago went by with sun and rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flowers, or the winter snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still thro’ memory’s palace-halls are fain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In rustling robes to go!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wed, or widow’d, or with milkless breasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around those women stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like mists that linger on the mountain crests<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rear’d in a phantom land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love is in their mien and in their look,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And from their lips a stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tender words flows, smooth as any brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And softer than a dream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one by one, holding my hands, they say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Things of the years agone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And each head will a little turn away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And each one still sigh on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because they think such meagre joy we had;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For love was little bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And youth had store, and chances to be glad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And squander’d so his gold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue eyes, and gray, and blacker than the sloe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dusk and golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lips that broke in kisses long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like sun-kiss’d flowers are there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And warm fireside, and sunny orchard wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And river-brink and bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wood and hill, and morning and day-fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every place and hour!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And each on each a white unclouded brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still as a sister bends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they would say, “Love makes us kindred now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who sometime were his friends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Thomas Ashe.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_GUEST" id="THE_GUEST"></a>THE GUEST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>IGHTS Love, the timorous bird, to dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">While summer smiles, a guest with you?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be wise betimes and use him well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he will stay in winter too:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you can have no sweeter thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the heart’s warm nest to sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blue-plumed swallows fly away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere autumn gilds a leaf; and then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have wit to find another day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The little clay-built house again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He will not know, a second spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His last year’s nest, if Love take wing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Thomas Ashe.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_SECRET" id="THE_SECRET"></a>THE SECRET.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the French of Félix Arvers.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y life its secret and its mystery has,<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">A love eternal in a moment born;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no hope to help my evil case,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she knows naught who makes me thus forlorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I unmark’d shall ever by her pass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aye at her side, and yet for aye alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall waste my bitter days, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never dare to claim my love my own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she whom God has made so sweet and dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will go her way, distraught, and never hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This murmur round her of my love and pain;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To austere duty true, will go her way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And read these verses full of her, and say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Who is this woman that he sings of then?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Thomas Ashe.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IF_LOVE_COULD_LAST" id="IF_LOVE_COULD_LAST"></a>IF LOVE COULD LAST!</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F Love could last, if Love could last,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The Future be as was the Past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor faith and fondness ever know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chill of dwindling afterglow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, then we should not have to long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For cuckoo’s call and throstle’s song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But every season then would ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rapturous voices of the spring.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In budding brake and grassy glade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The primrose then would never fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The windflower flag, the bluebell haze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint from the winding woodland ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But vernal hopes chase wintry fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And happy smiles and happier tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be like the sun and clouds at play,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If Love could last!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If Love could last, the rose would then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not bloom but once, to fade again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">June to the lily would not give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A life less fair than fugitive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But flower and leaf and lawn renew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their freshness nightly with the dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In forest dingles, dim and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where curtained noonday lies asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The faithful ringdove ne’er would cease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its anthem of abiding peace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the year round we then should stray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through fragrance of the new-mown hay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sit and ponder old-world rhymes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the leaves of scented limes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Careless of time, we should not fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The footsteps of the fleeting year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, did the long warm days depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twould still be summer in our heart,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did Love but last!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did Love but last, no shade of grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For fading flower, for falling leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For stubbles whence the piled-up wain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath borne away the golden grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaving a load of loss behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would shock the heart and haunt the mind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mellow gaze we then should see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ripe fruit shaken from the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swallows troop, the acorns fall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last peach redden on the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The oasthouse smoke, the hopbine burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing that all good things return<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To Love that lasts!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If Love could last, who then would mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The freezing rack, the unfeeling wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The curdling pool, the shivering sedge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The empty nest in leafless hedge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown dripping bents and furrows bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild geese clamouring through the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The huddling kine, the sodden leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lack-lustre dawns and clammy eves?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For then through twilight days morose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We should within keep warm and close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the friendly fireside blaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Talk of the ever-sacred days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When first we met, and felt how drear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were life without the other near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, too at peace with bliss to speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit hand in hand, and cheek to cheek,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If Love could last!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Yet Love Can Last.</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet Love <span class="itlc">can</span> last, yes, Love can last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Future be as was the Past,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faith and fondness never know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chill of dwindling afterglow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If to familiar hearth there cling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The virgin freshness of the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And April’s music still be heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wooing voice and winning word.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If when autumnal shadows streak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The furrowed brow, the wrinkled cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Devotion, deepening to the close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like fruit that ripens, tenderer grows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If, though the leaves of youth and hope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lie thick on life’s declining slope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fond heart, faithful to the last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lingers in love-drifts of the past;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If, with the gravely shortening days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faith trims the lamp, Faith feeds the blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Reverence, robed in wintry white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheds fragrance like a summer night,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then Love can last!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Alfred Austin.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_JOURNEY" id="A_JOURNEY"></a>A JOURNEY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE same green hill, the same blue sea,—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Yet, love, thou art no more to me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The same long reach of yellow sand,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where is the touch of thy soft hand?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The same wide open arch of sky,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, sweetheart, thou no more art nigh!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God love thee and God keep thee strong:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I breathe that pure prayer through my song!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I send my soul across the waste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seek and find thy soul in haste!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Across the inland woods and glades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the leaf-laced checkered shades,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My spirit passes, seeking thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more I tarry by the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For where thou art am I for ever;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mere space and time divide us never.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Barlow.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IF_ONLY_THOU_ART_TRUE" id="IF_ONLY_THOU_ART_TRUE"></a>IF ONLY THOU ART TRUE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F only a single Rose is left,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Why should the summer pine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blade of grass in a rocky cleft;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A single star to shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Why should I sorrow if all be lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If only thou art mine?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If only a single Bluebell gleams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bright on the barren heath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still of that flower the summer dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not of his August wreath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Why should I sorrow if thou art mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love, beyond change and death?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If only once on a wintry day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sun shines forth in the blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gladdens the groves till they laugh as in May<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dream of the touch of the dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Why should I sorrow if all be false,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If only thou art true?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Barlow.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ECSTASY_OF_THE_HAIR" id="THE_ECSTASY_OF_THE_HAIR"></a>THE ECSTASY OF THE HAIR.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>’D send a troop of kisses to entangle<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And lose themselves in labyrinths of hair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy deep dark night of hair with stars to spangle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And each, a firefly’s tiny lamp, to dangle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid the tresses of that forest fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A perfume seems to blossom into air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ecstasy that hangs about the tresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their blush, their overflow, their breath, their bloom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wind that gently lifts them and caresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wings itself and floats about the room;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauty that the flame of youth expresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A tender fire, too tender to consume,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, seizing all my soul, pervades, possesses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mingleth in a subtly sweet perfume.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Barlow.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_NIGHT_WATCHES" id="THE_NIGHT_WATCHES"></a>THE NIGHT WATCHES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, oh, come to me, voice or look, or spirit or dream, but, oh, come now;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">All these faces that crowd so thick are pale and cold and dead—Come thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scatter them back to the ivory gate and be alone and rule the night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Surely all worlds are nothing to Love, for Love to flash thro’ the night and come;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither and thither he flies at will, with thee he dwelleth—there is his home.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, O Love, with a voice, a message; haste, O Love, on thy wings of light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love, I am calling thee, Love, I am calling; dost thou not hear my crying, sweet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does not the live air throb with the pain of my beating heart, till thy heart beat?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely momently thou wilt be here, surely, O sweet Love, momently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No, my voice would be all too faint, too faint, when it reached Love’s ear, tho’ the night is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fainter ever and fainter grown o’er hill and valley and valley and hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There where thou liest quietly sleeping, and Love keeps watch as the dreams flit by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, my thought so subtle and swift, can it not fly till it reach thy brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whisper there some faint regret for a weary watch and a distant pain?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not too loud, to awake thy slumber; not too tender, to make thee weep;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Just so much for thy head to turn on the pillow so, and understand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dimly, that a soft caress has come long leagues from a weary land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn and half remember and smile, and send a kiss on the wings of sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">H. C. Beeching.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_A_ROSE_GARDEN" id="IN_A_ROSE_GARDEN"></a>IN A ROSE GARDEN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> HUNDRED years from now, dear heart,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">We will not care at all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It will not matter then a whit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The honey or the gall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The summer days that we have known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will all forgotten be and flown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The garden will be overgrown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now the roses fall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A hundred years from now, dear heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will not mind the pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The throbbing crimson tide of life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will not have left a stain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song we sing together, dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dream we dream together here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will mean no more than means a tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amid a summer rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A hundred years from now, dear heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grief will all be o’er;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea of care will surge in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a careless shore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">These glasses we turn down to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here at the parting of the way:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will be wineless then as they,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will not mind it more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A hundred years from now, dear heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll neither know nor care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What came of all life’s bitterness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or followed love’s despair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then fill the glasses up again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kiss me through the rose-leaf rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll build one castle more in Spain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dream one more dream there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Bennett.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="I_CHARGE_YOU_O_WINDS_OF_THE_WEST" id="I_CHARGE_YOU_O_WINDS_OF_THE_WEST"></a>I CHARGE YOU, O WINDS OF THE WEST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> CHARGE you, O winds of the West, O winds with the wings of the dove,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That ye blow o’er the brows of my Love, breathing low that I sicken for love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I charge you, O dews of the dawn, O tears of the star of the morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye fall at the feet of my love, with the sound of one weeping forlorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I charge you, O birds of the air, O birds flying home to your nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye sing in his ears of the joy that for ever has fled from my breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I charge you, O flowers of the Earth, O frailest of things, and most fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye droop in his path as the life in me shrivels and droops with despair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Moon, when he lifts up his face, when he seeth the waning of thee,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A memory of her who lies wan on the limits of life let it be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Many tears cannot quench, nor my sighs extinguish the flames of love’s fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which lifteth my heart like a wave, and smites it and breaks its desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I rise like one in a dream; unbidden my feet know the way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and white hawthorn of May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The song of the throstle is hushed, and the fountain is dry to its core,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon cometh up as of old; she seeks, but she finds him no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pale-faced, pitiful moon shines down on the grass where I weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My face to the earth, and my breast in an anguish ne’er soothed into sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moon returns, and the spring, birds warble, trees burst into leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But love once gone, goes for ever, and all that endures is the grief.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Mathilde Blind.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG5" id="SONG5"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU walkest with me as the spirit-light<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Of the hushed moon, high o’er a snowy hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walks with the houseless traveller all the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moon of my soul, O phantom of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou walkest with me still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In my soul’s sanctuary. Yea, still for thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bitter heart hath yearned, as moonward yearns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My moon of love, to whom for ever turns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That life that aches through me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Mathilde Blind.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CAELI" id="CAELI"></a>CÆLI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F stars were really watching eyes<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Of angel armies in the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I should forget all watchers there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only for your glances care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if your eyes were really stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With leagues that none can mete for bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To keep me from their longed-for day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not feel more far away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">F. W. Bourdillon.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVE_IN_THE_HEART" id="LOVE_IN_THE_HEART"></a>LOVE IN THE HEART.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE in the heart is as a nightingale<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That sings in a green wood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And none can pass unheeding there, nor fail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of impulses of good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though cruel brief be Love’s bright hour of song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet let him sing his fill!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For other hearts the echoes shall prolong<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Love’s own voice is still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">F. W. Bourdillon.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="I_WILL_NOT_LET_THEE_GO" id="I_WILL_NOT_LET_THEE_GO"></a>I WILL NOT LET THEE GO.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ends all our month-long love in this?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Can it be summed up so,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Quit in a single kiss?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thy words’ breath could scare thy deeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the soft south can blow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And toss the feathered seeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then might I let thee go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had not the great sun seen, I might;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or were he reckoned slow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To bring the false to light,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then might I let thee go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars that crowd the summer skies<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Have watched us so below<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With all their million eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I dare not let thee go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have we not chid the changeful moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now rising late, and now<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Because she set too soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And shall I let thee go?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have not the young flowers been content,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Plucked ere their buds could blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To seal our sacrament?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I cannot let thee go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hold thee by too many bands:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou sayest farewell, and lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I have thee by the hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And will not let thee go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Robert Bridges.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LONG_ARE_THE_HOURS" id="LONG_ARE_THE_HOURS"></a>LONG ARE THE HOURS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ONG are the hours the sun is above,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">But when evening comes I go home to my love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’m away the daylight hours and more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet she comes not down to open the door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She does not meet me upon the stair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sits in my chamber and waits for me there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As I enter the room, she does not move:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I always walk straight up to my love;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she lets me take my wonted place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At her side, and gaze in her dear, dead face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There as I sit, from her head thrown back<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hair falls straight in a shadow black.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aching and hot as my tired eyes be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is all that I wish to see.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in my wearied and toil-dinned ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She says all things that I wish to hear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dusky and duskier grows the room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I see her best in the darker gloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the winter eves are early and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The firelight hours are a dream of gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so I sit here night by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rest and enjoyment of love’s delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But a knock on the door, a step on the stair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will startle, alas, my love from her chair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If a stranger comes, she will not stay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the first alarm she is off and away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he wonders, my guest, usurping her throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I sit so much by myself alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Robert Bridges.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="APPARITIONS" id="APPARITIONS"></a>APPARITIONS.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>UCH a starved bank of moss<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Till, that May morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue ran the flash across:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Violets were born!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>KY—what a scowl of cloud<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Till, near and far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ray on ray split the shroud:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Splendid, a star!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ORLD—how it walled about<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Life with disgrace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till God’s own smile came out:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That was thy face.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PORPHYRIAS_LOVER" id="PORPHYRIAS_LOVER"></a>PORPHYRIA’S LOVER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE rain set early in to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The sullen wind was soon awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It tore the elm-tops down for spite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And did its worst to vex the lake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I listened with heart fit to break,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When glided in Porphyria; straight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She shut the cold out and the storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kneeled and made the cheerless grate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which done, she rose, and from her form<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laid her soiled gloves by, untied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hat and let the damp hair fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, last, she sat down by my side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And called me. When no voice replied,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She put my arm about her waist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And made her smooth, white shoulder bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her yellow hair displaced,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spread o’er all her yellow hair,—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Murmuring how she loved me,—she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too weak for all her heart’s endeavour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To set its struggling passion free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From pride, and vainer ties dissever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And give herself to me for ever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But passion sometimes would prevail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor could to-night’s gay feast restrain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden thought of one so pale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For love of her, and all in vain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, she was come through wind and rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Be sure I looked up at her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Happy and proud; at last I knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Porphyria worshipped me; surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made my heart swell, and still it grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I debated what to do.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That moment she was mine, mine, fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perfectly pure and good: I found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thing to do, and all her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In one long yellow string I wound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three times her little throat around,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And strangled her. No pain felt she;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am quite sure she felt no pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a shut bud that holds a bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I warily oped her lids: again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I untightened next the tress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her neck; her cheek once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I propped her head up as before.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only this time my shoulder bore<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her head, which droops upon it still:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The smiling rosy little head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So glad it has its utmost will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all it scorned at once is fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I, its love, am gained instead!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her darling one wish would be heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus we sit together now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all night long we have not stirred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet God has not said a word.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBINS_SONG" id="ROBINS_SONG"></a>ROBIN’S SONG.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Warwickshire, 16—.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>P, up, my heart! up, up, my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">This day was made for thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For soon the hawthorn spray shall part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thou a face shalt see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That comes, O heart, O foolish heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This way to gladden thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The grass shows fresher on the way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That soon her feet shall tread—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last year’s leaflet curled and gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I could have sworn was dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looks green, for lying in the way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know her feet will tread.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What hand yon blossom-curtain stirs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More light than errant air?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know the touch—’tis hers, ’tis hers!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She parts the thicket there—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowerèd branch her coming stirs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath perfumed all the air.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The springs of all forgotten years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are waked to life anew—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up, up, my eyes, nor fill with tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As tender as the dew—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew her not in all those years;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But life begins anew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up, up, my heart! up, up, my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This day was made for thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, Wit, take on thy nimblest art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And win Love’s victory—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What now? Where art thou, coward heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hour is here—and She!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">H. C. Bunner.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_HOUR_OF_SHADOWS" id="THE_HOUR_OF_SHADOWS"></a>THE HOUR OF SHADOWS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>PON that quiet day that lies<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Where forest branches screen the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit of the eve has laid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A deeper and a dreamier shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And winds that through the tree-tops blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wake not the silent gloom below.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only the sound of far-off streams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint as our dreams of childhood’s dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering in tangled pathways crost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like woodland truants strayed and lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their faint, complaining echoes roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Threading the forest toward their home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O brooks, I too have gone astray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left my comrade on the way—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guide me through aisles where soft you moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To some sad spot you know alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where only leaves and nestlings stir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I may dream, and dream of Her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">H. C. Bunner.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CARNATIONS_IN_WINTER" id="CARNATIONS_IN_WINTER"></a>CARNATIONS IN WINTER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR carmine flakes of bloom to-night<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The fire of wintry sunsets hold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again in dreams you burn to light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fair Canadian garden old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blue north summer over it<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is bland with long ethereal days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gleaming martins wheel and flit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where breaks your sun down orient ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, when the gradual twilight falls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through quietudes of dusk afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hermit, antiphonal hermit calls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hills below the first pale star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, in your passionate love’s foredoom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more your spirit stirs the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you are lifted through the gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To warm the coils of her dark hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Bliss Carman.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_EAVESDROPPER" id="THE_EAVESDROPPER"></a>THE EAVESDROPPER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N a still room at hush of dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">My Love and I lay side by side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard the roaming forest wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stir in the paling autumn-tide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I watched her earth-brown eyes grow glad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because the round day was so fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While memories of reluctant night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lurked in the blue dusk of her hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Outside, a yellow maple-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shifting upon the silvery blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With small innumerable sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rustled to let the sunlight through.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The livelong day the elvish leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Danced with their shadows on the floor;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lost children of the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Went straying homeward by our door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all the swarthy afternoon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We watched the great deliberate sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walk through the crimsoned hazy world,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Counting his hilltops one by one.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then as the purple twilight came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And touched the vines along our eaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another shadow stood without<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gloomed the dancing of the leaves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The silence fell on my Love’s lips;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her great brown eyes were veiled and sad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With pondering some maze of dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though all the splendid year was glad.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Restless and vague as a gray wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her heart had grown, she knew not why.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hurrying to the open door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the verge of western sky<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw retreating on the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looming and sinister and black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stealthy figure swift and huge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of One who strode and looked not back.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Bliss Carman.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_IMPOSSIBLE_SHE" id="THE_IMPOSSIBLE_SHE"></a>THE IMPOSSIBLE SHE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AR away hangs an apple that ripens on high<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The latest-born child of old sun-blind July,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the summer’s warm kiss as he wooes overhead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turns its sour heart to sweetness, its wan cheek to red.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But it is not for you, and it is not for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, it is not for any who here may be;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For its dawning red sweetness,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That rounds to completeness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grows moist for the lips that we never may see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s a white rose leaf-cloistered in heavy noon-hush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no eyes but the stars tempt its pale face to blush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that wilderness garden where, shut from day’s beam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fall its fragrant white leaves, light as steps of a dream.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">But it is not for you, and it is not for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, it is not for any who here may be;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For it sleeps and then wakes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In dew-scented snow-flakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As a star for the dusk hair we never may see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a green golden valley there grows an elf-girl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her lip is red-ripe; and her soul, one rich pearl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yields once to one diver a treasure unpriced<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the wine of the Gods or the wine-blood of Christ.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she is not for you, and she is not for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay she is not for any who here may be;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For her breast like a moon<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through the rosed air of June<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grows round for his hand whom we never may see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Henry Bernard Carpenter.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_DREAM_SHAPE" id="A_DREAM_SHAPE"></a>A DREAM SHAPE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH moon-white hearts that held a gleam<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I gathered wild flowers in a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shaped a woman, whose sweet blood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was odour of the wildwood bud.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From dew, the starlight arrowed through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wrought a woman’s eyes of blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lids, that on her eyeballs lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were rose-pale petals of the May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I took the music of the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And water whispering in the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shaped the soul that breathed below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A woman’s blossom breasts of snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out of a rose-bud’s veins I drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fragrant crimsom beating through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The languid lips of her, whose kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was as a poppy’s drowsiness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out of the moonlight and the air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wrought the glory of her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That o’er her eyes’ blue heaven lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some gold cloud o’er dawn of day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shadow’s shadow in the glass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sleep, my spirit saw her pass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, thinking of it now, meseems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We only live within our dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in that time she was to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More real than our reality;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More real than Earth, more real than I—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unreal things that pass and die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Madison Cawein.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="UNREQUITED" id="UNREQUITED"></a>UNREQUITED.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ASSION? not hers who fixed me with pure eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">One hand among the deep curls of her brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I drank the girlhood of her gaze with sighs:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She never sighed, nor gave me kiss or vow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So have I seen a clear October pool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cold, liquid topaz set within the sear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold of the woodland, tremorless and cool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reflecting all the heartbreak of the year.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweetheart? not she whose voice was music-sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose face loaned language to melodious prayer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetheart I called her.—When did she repeat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet to one hope or heart to one despair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So have I seen a glad flower’s fragrant head<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sung to and sung to by a longing bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at the last, albeit the bird lay dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No blossom wilted, for it had not heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Madison Cawein.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_WOOD" id="IN_THE_WOOD"></a>IN THE WOOD.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HROUGH laughing leaves the sunlight comes,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Turning the green to gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bee about the heather hums,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the morning air is cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here on the breezy woodland side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where we two ride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through laughing leaves on golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunlight glances down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And makes a halo round her there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And crowns her with a crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Queen of the sunrise and the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we ride on.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wanton wind has kissed her face,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His lips have left a rose,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He found her cheek so sweet a place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For kisses, I suppose,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He thought he’d leave a sign, that so<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Others might know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The path grows narrower as we ride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The green boughs close above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And overhead, and either side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wild birds sing of Love:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah, she is not listening<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To what they sing!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till I take up the wild bird’s song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And word by word unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its meaning as we ride along,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And when my tale is told,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I turn my eyes to hers again,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then,—and then,—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(The bridle path more narrow grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leaves shut out the sun;—)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the wind’s lips left their one rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own leave more than one:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the leaves murmur up above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laugh for love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This was the place;—you see the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now ’twixt the branches bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the path the dead leaves lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And songless is the air;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All’s changed since then, for that you know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was long ago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let us ride on! The wind is cold.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let us ride on—ride fast!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis winter, and we know of old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That love could never last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without the summer and the sun!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let us ride on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Herbert E. Clarke.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BIRDS_AND_LOVERS" id="BIRDS_AND_LOVERS"></a>BIRDS AND LOVERS.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> BROWN lark, loving cloud-land best<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And sun-smit seas of sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee does a musical unrest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drive to rise upward from thy nest<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Far fathoms high.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O fluid-fluting blackbird, keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The midnight of thy wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close to my home where leaves grow deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since where two lovers lie asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thou lovest to sing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Mortimer Collins.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DAWN" id="DAWN"></a>DAWN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>AWN, with flusht foot upon the mountain tops,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Stands beckoning to the Sun-god’s golden car,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While on her high clear brow the morning star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grows fainter, as the silver-misty copse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rosy river-bend and village white<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Feel the strong shafts of light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tide of dreams has reached its utter ebb;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The joy of Dawn is in my Lady’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where at her window with a half-surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sees the meadows meshed with fairy web,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hears the happy skylark, far above,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Singing, <span class="itlc">I live! I love!</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Mortimer Collins.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVES_POWER" id="LOVES_POWER"></a>LOVE’S POWER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE fire is smouldering while the daylight wanes;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Rain taps impatient on the window-panes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waves roll high, and the cold wind complains.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The wind complains.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Reluctant start the embers to a blaze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the ashy drifts the red coal plays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fairy rings the circling smoke delays.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The smoke delays.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, lonely life! it is the wind’s sad cry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, only life! calls Echo, floating by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, love is life! it is my heart’s reply.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My heart’s reply.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Burn low, ye fires that on the hearthstone play!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beat out your life, O waves in dashing spray!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart chants not your monotone to-day.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Oh, not to-day!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear no dirge, I see no ashes gray—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love! love! love! love! its rapture fills the day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winter brings to me the bloom of May.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The bloom of May.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Lydia Avery Coonley.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LAST_NIGHT_MY_LADY_TALKED_WITH_ME" id="LAST_NIGHT_MY_LADY_TALKED_WITH_ME"></a>LAST NIGHT MY LADY TALKED WITH ME.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>AST night my lady talked with me,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">As on a green hill I and she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat close, where erst alone I stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the dusk-leaved ilex-wood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The earth was gathered to her rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet silence lay upon her breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well-nigh asleep, save that she heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wandering waters’ silver word.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun had kissed the earth’s dark lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That grow so ruddy ere he dips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wine-coloured to his golden rim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As purple evening pours for him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Low stooped his head, as he would drink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till out of sight we saw him sink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with his splendour in our eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full-orbed we watched the great moon rise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rose-tinged in the dim sky shone she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Venus from the opal sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So grew her glory in our sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till in her face we saw love’s light,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love’s light in hers, like flame on flame,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, very Love in presence came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the fires of moon and sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He stood, like dawn ere night begun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clear-aureoled his golden head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eyes our burning hearts well read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the sanctuary of my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I won of love the golden goal.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Walter Crane.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVES_ARROWS" id="LOVES_ARROWS"></a>LOVE’S ARROWS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SAW young Love make trial of his bow,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">In May’s green garden where he shot his dart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor recked if any nigh beheld his art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But other eyes did mark him as I know;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my sweet lady sate anear his throw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I with her, and joinèd heart to heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So that we might not feel the bitter smart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love leaveth there when time doth force us go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We heard Love’s arrows falling in the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or watched them quiver in the targe below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet few to us came nigh, nor might they pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond our feet, which trembled when they came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose hearts were not the quarry for his aim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That in Love’s chase fell stricken long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Walter Crane.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_LOVE_SONG2" id="A_LOVE_SONG2"></a>A LOVE SONG.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the French of Alphonse de Lamartine.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>IME with his jealous icy blast<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Will wither all your charms, like sweet flowers past<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And dead in winter’s tomb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till soft, red lips are kissless, and the joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They now can give, tho’ now, alas, too coy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Has perish’d with their bloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet when your eyes, veil’d in a cloud of tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall mourn the rigour of the fleeting years,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And see each grace depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in the past, as in a stream, you gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seek the lovely form of other days,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Look rather in my heart;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There will your beauty flourish years untold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There will my loyalty watch you as of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And keep you still the same;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just as a golden lamp some holy maid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might shelter with her hand, while thro’ the shade<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She bears the trembling flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, when Death smiling comes, as come he must,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shatters our twin torches in the dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A stronger love shall bloom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then shall my last sweet resting-place be thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your soft hand clasp’d tenderly in mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In our last bed, the tomb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or, rather, darling, let us fly away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just as upon some glorious autumn day<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Two loving swans might rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, still caressing, leave their wonted nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seek for brighter lands, and climes more blest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And fuller, deeper skies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Harry Curwen.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PARTING_HOUR" id="THE_PARTING_HOUR"></a>THE PARTING HOUR.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OT yet, dear love, not yet: the sun is high;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">You said last night, “At sunset I will go.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come to the garden, where, when blossoms die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No word is spoken; it is better so:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah! bitter word, “Farewell.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark how the birds sing sunny songs of spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soon they will build, and work will silence them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So we grow less light-hearted as years bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s grave responsibilities—and then<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The bitter word “Farewell.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The violets fret to fragrance ’neath your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven’s gold sunlight dreams aslant your hair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No flower for me! your mouth is far more sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, let my lips forget, while lingering there,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love’s bitter word “Farewell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span>”<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Sunset already! have we sat so long?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The parting hour, and so much left unsaid!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The garden has grown silent—void of song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our sorrow shakes us with a sudden dread!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah! bitter word “Farewell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Olive Custance.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_SUNDIAL" id="THE_SUNDIAL"></a>THE SUNDIAL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">’T</span>is an old dial, dark with many a stain;<br /></span> -<span class="ij">In summer crowned with drifting orchard-bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And white in winter like a marble tomb;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And round about its gray, time-eaten brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lean letters speak—a worn and shattered row;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="itlc">I am a Shade: a Shadow too arte thou:</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="itlc">I marke the Time: saye, Gossip, dost thou soe?</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here would the ringdoves linger, head to head;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here the snail a silver course would run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beating old Time; and here the peacock spread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His gold-green glory, shutting out the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tardy shade moved forward to the noon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betwixt the paths a dainty Beauty stept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That swung a flower, and, smiling, hummed a tune,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before whose feet a barking spaniel leapt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er her blue dress an endless blossom strayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her tendril-curls the sunlight shone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round her train the tiger-lilies swayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like courtiers bowing till the queen be gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She leaned upon the slab a little while,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then drew a jewelled pencil from her zone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scribbled a something with a frolic smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Folded, inscribed, and niched it in the stone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shade slipped on, no swifter than the snail;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There came a second lady in the place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dove-eyed, dove-robed, and something wan and pale—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An inner beauty shining from her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She, as if listless with a lonely love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Straying among the alleys with a book,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Herrick or Herbert,—watched the circling dove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spied the tiny letter in the nook.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, like to one who confirmation found<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of some dread secret half accounted true,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who knew what hands and hearts the letter bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And argued loving commerce ’twixt the two,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She bent her fair young forehead on the stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dark shade gloomed an instant on her head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’twixt her taper fingers pearled and shone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The single tear that tear-worn eyes will shed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shade slipped onward to the falling gloom;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There came a soldier gallant in her stead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swinging a beaver with a swaling plume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A ribboned love-lock rippling from his head;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blue-eyed, frank-faced, with clear and open brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scar-seamed a little, as the women love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So kindly fronted that you marvel how<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frequent sword-hilt had so frayed his glove;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who switched at Psyche plunging in the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Uncrowned three lilies with a backward swinge;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And standing somewhat widely, like to one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More used to “Boot and Saddle” than to cringe<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As courtiers do, but gentleman withal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Took out the note; held it as one who feared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fragile thing he held would slip and fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Read and re-read, pulling his tawny beard;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kissed it, I think, and hid it in his breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laughed softly in a flattered happy way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arranged the broidered baldrick on his chest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sauntered past, singing a roundelay.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The shade crept forward through the dying glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There came no more nor dame nor cavalier;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But for a little time the brass will show<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A small gray spot—the record of a tear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Austin Dobson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SPRING_SONG" id="SPRING_SONG"></a>SPRING SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ERALD of peace and joy,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Lone on the bough;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Minstrel without alloy.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What flutest thou?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Violet, hiding low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fragrant and shy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What message bearest thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Voiced in thy sigh?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Buds that unloose your hasp<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long cased in mail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrest from grim Winter’s grasp,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Freed from his pale;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Brooklets, swift hurrying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Purling your chime.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is the theme ye sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Endless as Time?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“We sing the sun,” they say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“We sing the spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love crowns our holyday,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is our king.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">E’en so the thought of Thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rapture doth bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yielding delight to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dearer than spring;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blither than robin’s strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fairer than flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh as the vernal rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bright as the hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy smile my sun, I ween,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine eyes my May:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy sweet grace, my Queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fondly, I pray,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grant me to keep and hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fast in love’s shrine,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring may no joys unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Art thou not mine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George H. Ellwanger.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_JESSIES_DANCING_FEET" id="TO_JESSIES_DANCING_FEET"></a>TO JESSIE’S DANCING FEET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW, as a spider’s web is spun<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With subtle grace and art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do thy light footsteps, every one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cross and recross my heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now here, now there, and to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their winding mazes turn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy fairy feet so lightly go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They seem the earth to spurn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet every step leaves there behind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A something, when you dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That serves to tangle up my mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all my soul entrance.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How, as the web the spiders spin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wanton breezes blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soft and filmy laces in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A swirl around thee flow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cobweb ’neath thy chin that’s crossed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remains demurely put,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While those are ever whirled and tossed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That show thy saucy foot:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That show the silver grayness of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy stocking’s silken sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mesh of snowy skirts above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The silver that is seen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How, as the spider from his web<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dangles in light suspense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do thy sweet measures’ flow and ebb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sway my enraptured sense!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy flutt’ring lace, thy dainty airs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy every charming pose—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are not more alluring snares<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bind me with than those.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swing on! Sway on! With easy grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy witching steps repeat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love I dare not—to thy face—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I offer at thy feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">W. D. Ellwanger.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_LOVE_SONG1" id="A_LOVE_SONG1"></a>A LOVE SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>H, to think, oh, to think as I see her stand there<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With the rose that I plucked in her glorious hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the robe that I love.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So demure and so neat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am lord of her lips and her eyes and her feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, to think, oh, to think when the last hedge is leapt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the blood is awakened that dreamingly slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I shall make her heart throb<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In its cradle of lace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the lord of her hair and her breast and her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, to think, oh, to think when our wedding-bells ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When our love’s at the summer but life’s at the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I shall guard her asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As my hound guards her glove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being lord of her life and her heart and her love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Norman R. Gale.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG" id="A_SONG"></a>A SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WILL not say my true love’s eyes<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Outshine the noblest star;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in their depth of lustre lies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My peace, my truce, my war.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will not say upon her neck<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is white to shame the snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For if her bosom hath a speck<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would not have it go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love is as a woman sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And as a woman white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who’s more than this is more than meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For me and my delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Norman R. Gale.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_NOCTURNE" id="A_NOCTURNE"></a>A NOCTURNE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">K</span>EEN winds of cloud and vaporous drift<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Disrobe yon star, as ghosts that lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A snowy curtain from its place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To scan a pillowed beauty’s face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They see her slumbering splendours lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bedded on blue unfathomed sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swoon for love and deep delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stillness falls on all the night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Richard Garnett.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VIOLETS" id="VIOLETS"></a>VIOLETS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OLD blows the wind against the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And cold upon the plain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sit me by the bank, until<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The violets come again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here sat we when the grass was set<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With violets shining through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leafing branches spread a net<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hold a sky of blue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The trumpet clamoured from the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cannon rent the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cried, O Love, come back again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the violets die!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But they are dead upon the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he upon the plain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sit me by the bank, until<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My violets come again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Richard Garnett.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_YEAR" id="A_YEAR"></a>A YEAR.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the hot wasp hung in the grape last year,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And tendrils withered and leaves grew sear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was little to hope and nothing to fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the smouldering autumn sank apace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my heart was hollow and cold and drear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the last gray moth that November brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had folded its sallow and sombre wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the tuneless voice of a child that sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A music arose in that desolate place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A broken music of hopeless things.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But time went by with the month of snows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the pulse and tide of that music rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a pain that fades is a pleasure that grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So hope sprang up with a heart of grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love as a crocus-bud that blows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now I know when next autumn has dried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweet hot juice to the grape-skin’s side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the new wasps dart where the old ones died,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart will have rest in one luminous face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And its longing and yearning be satisfied.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edmund William Gosse.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IVE_KISSED_THEE_SWEETHEART" id="IVE_KISSED_THEE_SWEETHEART"></a>I’VE KISSED THEE, SWEETHEART.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the French of Théophile de Viau.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>’VE kissed thee, sweetheart, in a dream at least,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And though the core of love is in me still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This joy, that in my sense did softly thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ardour of my longing hath appeased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by this tender strife my spirit, eased,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can laugh at that sweet theft against thy will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, half consoled, I soothe myself until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I find my heart from all its pain released.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My senses, hushed, begin to fall on sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slumber, for which two weary nights I weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Takes thy dear place at last within mine eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though so cold he is, as all men vow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For me he breaks his natural icy guise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shows himself more warm and fond than thou.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edmund William Gosse.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="COMPLAINT" id="COMPLAINT"></a>COMPLAINT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>EN, women, call thee so and so;<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">I do not know.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou hast no name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me, but in my heart a flame<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Burns tireless, ’neath a silver vine;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And round entwine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Its purple girth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things of fragrance and of worth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou shout! thou burst of light! thou throb<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of pain! thou sob!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou like a bar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some sonata, heard from far<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through blue-hued veils! When in these wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To my soul’s eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy shape appears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My aching hands are full of tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Gray.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HEARTS_DEMESNE" id="HEARTS_DEMESNE"></a>HEART’S DEMESNE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ISTEN, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Made never answer when my eyes did pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than with those quaintest looks of blank surprise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But my lovelonging hath devised a way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mock thy living image, from thy hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thy rose toes; and keep thee by alway.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My garden’s face is, oh! so maidly fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With limbs all tapering, and with hues all fresh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine are the beauties all that flourish there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Amaranth, fadeless, tells me of thy flesh.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Briar-rose knows thy cheek, the Pink thy pout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bunched kisses dangle from the Woodbine mesh.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I love to loll, when Daisy stars peep out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hear the music of my garden dell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hollyhock’s laughter and the Sunflower’s shout,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And many whisper things I dare not tell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Gray.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_EVENING" id="IN_THE_EVENING"></a>IN THE EVENING.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the Italian of Countess Lara.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SIT alone and watch the cinders glare,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Or hear the pine-logs crackling sharp and low.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wait him still; he went not long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Humming a tune, his cigarette aflare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was called out by some most grave affair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His friends, on cards intent, would have it so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or some new singer’s style he fain would know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who with false graces mars a grand old air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And for such things as these he stays away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till midnight passes, and, at one, the bell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Booms from the neighbouring church its single flight;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then gaily he returns, and half in play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kisses me lightly, asks if I am well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never dreams that I have wept all night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">G. A. Greene.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WHEN_THE_LEAVES_FALL_IN_AUTUMN" id="WHEN_THE_LEAVES_FALL_IN_AUTUMN"></a>WHEN THE LEAVES FALL IN AUTUMN.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the Italian of Lorenzo Stecchetti.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the leaves fall in autumn, and you go<br /></span> -<span class="ih">To seek the cross that marks my lonely grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that far corner where they laid me low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nodding wild-flowers o’er my bones shall wave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Oh, pluck you then, to deck your golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowers born of my heart which blossom there:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">They are the songs I dreamed, but ne’er have sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The words of love you heard not on my tongue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">G. A. Greene.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="QUI_SAIT_AIMER_SAIT_MOURIR" id="QUI_SAIT_AIMER_SAIT_MOURIR"></a>“QUI SAIT AIMER, SAIT MOURIR.”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“I burn my soul away!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So spake the Rose and smiled; “within my cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All day the sunbeams fall in flame, all day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They drink my sweetness up!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“I sigh my soul away!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lily said; “all night the moonbeams pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steal round and round me, whispering in their play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An all too tender tale!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“I give my soul away!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Violet said; “the West wind wanders on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The North wind comes; I know not what they say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet my soul is gone!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O Poet, burn away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy fervent soul! fond Lover at the feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her thou lovest, sigh! dear Christian, pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the world be sweet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Dora Greenwell.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG4" id="SONG4"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F love were like a thrush’s song,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Ah me! ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d list his tale the whole day long,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d never know how time went by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d never guess that time will die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rapt in that living ecstasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah me! ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d list a glorious life along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If love were but a thrush’s song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But love is fierce and love is fain,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah me! ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love has one bitter sweet refrain,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love knows of anguish every tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love knows of joy but hope alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love knows of hope that hope is flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah me! ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love! poor fierce Love, by storm winds driven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love is earth’s vain desire for heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">A. Stepney Gulston.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="O_KNIGHT_IF_THOU_A_LADY_HAST" id="O_KNIGHT_IF_THOU_A_LADY_HAST"></a>O KNIGHT, IF THOU A LADY HAST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> KNIGHT, if thou a lady hast,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Gentle and loving, high and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cling to her, live for her, die for her, too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swerve not from her while life shall last—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O knight, if thou a lady hast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if thou, knight, no lady hast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kind as courteous, fair as fond,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So grasp the joyless pilgrim’s wand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go high, go wide, go far and fast—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till thou e’en such a lady hast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Gertrude Hall.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AT_LAST" id="AT_LAST"></a>AT LAST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN I shall stand before the judgment throne,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">At that last hour when all things pass away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see beneath me there the vast array<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of souls who wait their life deeds to atone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there before the face of God, alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Appear, and hear His awful voice then say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Throughout thy life, until thy dying day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there not any good deed thou hast done?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I shall answer, “Nay, I cannot tell;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But this there is: I loved with all my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above mine own, one soul; was that not well?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On earth my love brought only bitter smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there I felt the pangs of Thy dread Hell;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From her, my Heaven, bid me not now depart!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William C. Hall.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_OLD_IS_BETTER" id="THE_OLD_IS_BETTER"></a>THE OLD IS BETTER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LONE, alone, thro’ the sunny street,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">In the shadow of a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The forms and faces I pass and meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a mist and darkness seem.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The old gray houses stand a-row,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their windows blink and stare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sparrows chirp on the lilac bough<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the garden in the square.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The busy mower whets his scythe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He hums a cheery rhyme;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild bees murmur, and drowse and dive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the blossom of the lime.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The forms and faces that come and go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They flicker and wane and gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I walk through the streets of long ago<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the shadow of a dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The faces waver and fade away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While under the lilac bough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upspringeth the aspect, bright and gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a face I used to know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see her stand, and she calls my name,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my heart and pulses glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the old life starts like a buried flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the new life flickers low.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The present darkens and faints and fades,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the old-loved smiles shine through;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The living wander, like ghostly shades,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the lost are born anew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And my soul with the joy of its calm is rife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I bask in my after-glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I loved my love, and I lived my life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the days of long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Mary L. Hankin.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BALLADE_OF_MIDSUMMER_DAYS_AND_NIGHTS" id="BALLADE_OF_MIDSUMMER_DAYS_AND_NIGHTS"></a>BALLADE OF MIDSUMMER DAYS AND NIGHTS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the winds are one with the clouds and beams—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Midsummer days! midsummer days!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the west from a rapture of sunset rights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wood’s green heart is a nest of dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lush grass thickens and springs and sways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Midsummer days! midsummer days!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All secret shadows and mystic lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Late lovers murmurous linger and gaze—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s a music of bells from the trampling teams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rich ripe rose as with incense steams—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Midsummer days! midsummer days!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A soul from the honeysuckle strays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the nightingale as from prophet heights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sings to the Earth of her million Mays—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And it’s O! for my dear and the charm that stays—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Midsummer days! midsummer days!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s O! for my Love and the dark that plights—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">W. E. Henley.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OH_GATHER_ME_THE_ROSE" id="OH_GATHER_ME_THE_ROSE"></a>OH, GATHER ME THE ROSE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>H, gather me the rose, the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">While yet in flower we find it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For summer smiles, but summer goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And winter waits behind it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For with the dream foregone, foregone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The deed forborne forever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The worm regret will canker on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And time will turn him never.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So well it were to love, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cheat of any laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fate beneath us and above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dark before and after.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The myrtle and the rose, the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunshine and the swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dream that comes, the wish that goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The memories that follow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">W. E. Henley.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HER_DREAM" id="HER_DREAM"></a>HER DREAM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OLD your arms around me, Sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">As against your heart my heart doth beat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kiss me, Love, till it fade,—the fright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the dreadful dream I dreamt last night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, thank God, it is you, it is you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own love, fair and strong and true.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We two are the same that, yesterday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Played in the light and tost the hay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My hair you stroke, O dearest one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is alive with youth and bright with the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell me again, Love, how I seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The prettiest queen of curds and cream.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fold me close and kiss me again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss off the shadow of last night’s pain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I dreamt last night, as I lay in bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I was old and that you were dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I knew you had died long time ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I well recalled the moan and woe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You had died in your beautiful youth, my sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You had gone to your rest with untired feet;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I had prayed to come to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lay me down and slumber too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But it might not be, and the days went on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I was all alone, alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The women came so neighbourly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kissed my face and wept with me;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the men stood still to see me pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smiled grave smiles, and said, “<span class="itlc">Poor lass!</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes I seemed to hear your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my grief-numbed heart would wildly beat;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I stopt and named my darling’s name—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But never a word of answer came.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The men and women ceased at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To pity pain that was of the past;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For pain is common, and grief, and loss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many come home by Weeping Cross.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why do I tell you this, my dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sorrow is gone now you are here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You and I, we sit in the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fled is the horror of yesternight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The time went on, and I saw one day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My body was bent and my hair was gray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the boys and girls a-whispering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet tales in the sweet light of the spring,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Never paused in the tales they told<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To say, “<span class="itlc">He is dead and she is old</span>.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s a place in the churchyard where, I thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long since my lover had been brought;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It had sunk with years from a high green mound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a level no stranger would have found;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I—I always knew the spot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How could I miss it, know it not?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Darling, darling, draw me near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I cannot shake off the dread and fear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fold me so close I scarce can breathe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kiss me, for, lo, above, beneath,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blue sky fades, and the green grass dries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sunshine goes from my lips and eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O God—that dream—it has not fled—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="itlc">One of us old, and one of us dead</span>!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Emily H. Hickey.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG3" id="SONG3"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW many lips have uttered one sweet word—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Ever the sweetest word in any tongue!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How many listening hearts have wildly stirred,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While burning blushes to the soft cheeks sprung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dear eyes, deepening with a light divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were lifted up, as thine are now to mine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How oft the night, with silence and perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has hushed the world that heart might speak to heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make in each dim haunt of leafy gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A trysting-place where love might meet and part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kisses fall unseen on lips and brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As on thine, sweet! my kisses linger now!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Charles Lotin Hildreth.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TRYST" id="THE_TRYST"></a>THE TRYST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET as the change from pleasant thoughts to sleep<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The silver gloaming melted into gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then came the evening silence rich and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With mingled breaths of dew-released perfume;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The few first stars shone in the azure pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft as a young nun’s glances through her veil.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it for darkness that thou waited, sweet?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, though thy face was dusk in night’s eclipse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy heart betrayed thee by its quickened beat!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I needed not the light to find thy lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor in the balmy hush of even-time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear one word more sweet than any rhyme.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Charles Lotin Hildreth.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BY_ONE_RAPT_DAY" id="BY_ONE_RAPT_DAY"></a>BY ONE RAPT DAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>Y one rapt day Love doth his harvest mete,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And from dream wings in memory’s light caressed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fans calms of joy into my burning breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is that day when Love bowed at thy feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the noontide in a rush of heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rippled with whispers of thy love confessed;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And larks afar sank down with sobs of rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finding their carol heights in thee complete.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The day when, midst the well-known Sussex wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stream music kissed the spirit of the wold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sang the sun to rest, mingling its gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With heather-bell and oak, and, rapt in moods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of melody and shy sweet interludes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Held our soul’s transport still with joys untold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">A. Ernest Hinshelwood.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_DILEMMA" id="THE_DILEMMA"></a>THE DILEMMA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OW, by the blessed Paphian queen,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Who heaves the breast of sweet sixteen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By every name I cut on bark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before my morning star grew dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Hymen’s torch, by Cupid’s dart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all that thrills the beating heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bright black eye, the melting blue,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot choose between the two.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I had a vision in my dreams;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw a row of twenty beams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From every beam a rope was hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every rope a lover swung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I asked the hue of every eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bade each luckless lover die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten shadowy lips said heavenly blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ten accused the darker hue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I asked a matron which she deemed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With fairest light of beauty beamed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She answered, some thought both were fair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give her blue eyes and golden hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I might have liked her judgment well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, as she spoke, she rung the bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her girls, nor small nor few,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came marching in,—their eyes were blue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I asked a maiden; back she flung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The locks that round her forehead hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turned her eye, a glorious one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright as a diamond in the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On me, until beneath its rays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I felt as if my hair would blaze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She liked all eyes but eyes of green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She looked at me, what could she mean?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! many lids Love lurks between,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor heeds the colouring of his screen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when his random arrows fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The victim falls, but knows not why.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaze not upon his shield of jet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shaft upon the string is set;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look not beneath his azure veil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though every limb were cased in mail.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well both might make a martyr break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chain that bound him to the stake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And both with but a single ray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can melt our very hearts away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And both, when balanced, hardly seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To stir the scales, or rock the beam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that is dearest, all the while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wears for us the sweetest smile.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_MEASURE" id="THE_MEASURE"></a>THE MEASURE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ETWEEN the pansies and the rye<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Flutters my purple butterfly;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between her white brow and her chin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does Love his fairy wake begin:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By poppy-cups and drifts of heather,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dances the sun and she together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But o’er the scarlet of her mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence those entreated words come forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love hovers all the livelong day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cannot, through its spell, away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there, where he was born, must die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the pansies and the rye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Herbert P. Horne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TWO_TRUTHS" id="TWO_TRUTHS"></a>TWO TRUTHS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Darling,” he said, “I never meant<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hurt you;” and his eyes were wet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I would not hurt you for the world:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Am I to blame if I forget?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Forgive my selfish tears!” she cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Forgive! I knew that it was not<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because you meant to hurt me, sweet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I knew it was that you forgot!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But all the same, deep in her heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rankled this thought, and rankles yet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“When love is at its best, one loves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So much that he cannot forget.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Helen Hunt.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_PRAYER" id="A_PRAYER"></a>A PRAYER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">D</span>EAR, let me dream of love,<br /></span> -<span class="ij">Ah! though a dream it be!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll ask no boon above<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A word, a smile from thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At most, in some still hour, one kindly thought of me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Sweet, let me gaze awhile<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Into those radiant eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll scheme not to beguile<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The heart, that deeper lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath them than yon star in night’s pellucid skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Love, let my spirit bow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In worship at thy shrine!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll swear thou shalt not know<br /></span> -<span class="i4">One word from lip of mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An instant’s pain to send through that shy soul of thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Selwyn Image.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_JUNE_STORM" id="A_JUNE_STORM"></a>A JUNE STORM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ULLENLY fell the rain while under the oak we stood;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">It hissed in the leaves above us, and big drops plashed to the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a horror of darkness fell over river and field and wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the trees were huddling together like children scared by a sound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then suddenly rang a note from a wildbird out of the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In quick response to a sunbeam, and lo, o’erhead it was fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweet was the smell of the meadow, and pleasant the hum of the bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we look’d in each other’s eyes—and the raindrops shone in your hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Henry Jenner.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DOLCINO_TO_MARGARET" id="DOLCINO_TO_MARGARET"></a>DOLCINO TO MARGARET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE world goes up and the world goes down,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And the sunshine follows the rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yesterday’s sneer and yesterday’s frown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can never come over again,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sweet wife;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No, never come over again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For woman is warm, though man be cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the night will hallow the day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the heart which at even was weary and old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can rise in the morning gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sweet wife;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To its work in the morning gay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Charles Kingsley.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_BALLADE_OF_WAITING" id="A_BALLADE_OF_WAITING"></a>A BALLADE OF WAITING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>O girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wrought<br /></span> -<span class="ih">So rich as the arms of my love can be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No gems with a lovelier lustre fraught<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than her eyes when they answer me liquidly.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear lady of love, be kind to me<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In days when the waters of hope abate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And doubt like a shimmer on sand shall be,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet mouth, that the wear of the world hath taught<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No glitter of wile or traitorie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More soft than a cloud in the sunset caught,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the heart of a crimson peony;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, turn not its beauty away from me;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To kiss it and cling to it early and late<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall make sweet minutes of days that flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rich hair, that a painter of old had sought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the weaving of some soft phantasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most fair when the streams of it run distraught<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the firm sweet shoulders yellowly;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear Lady, gather it close to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Weaving a nest for the double freight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of cheeks and lips that are one and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>ENVOY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>O time shall be swift till thou mate with me,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">For love is mightiest next to fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And none shall be happier, Love, than we,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Archibald Lampman.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_FORECAST" id="A_FORECAST"></a>A FORECAST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT days await this woman whose strange feet<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Breathe spells, whose presence makes men dream like wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tall, free and slender as the forest pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose form is moulded music, through whose sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frank eyes I feel the very heart’s least beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Keen, passionate, full of dreams and fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How in the end, and to what man’s desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall all this yield, whose lips shall these lips meet?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One thing I know: if he be great and pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if not this, some differing thing he be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dream shall break in terror; he shall see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Archibald Lampman.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AN_OLD_TUNE" id="AN_OLD_TUNE"></a>AN OLD TUNE.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the French of Gérard de Nerval.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is an air for which I would disown<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Mozart’s, Rossini’s, Weber’s melodies,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sweet sad air that languishes and sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And keeps its secret charm for me alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whene’er I hear that music vague and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two hundred years are mist that rolls away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thirteenth Louis reigns, and I behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A green land golden in the dying day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An old red castle, strong with stony towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The windows gay with many-coloured glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide plains, and rivers flowing among flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That bathe the castle basement as they pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In antique weed, with dark eyes and gold hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A lady looks forth from her window high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It may be that I knew and found her fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In some forgotten life, long time gone by.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Andrew Lang.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GOOD-BYE" id="GOOD-BYE"></a>GOOD-BYE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">K</span>ISS me, and say good-bye;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Good-bye, there is no word to say but this,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor any lips left for my lips to kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any tears to shed, when these tears dry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me, and say good-bye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell, be glad, forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no need to say “forget,” I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For youth is youth, and time will have it so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though your lips are pale, and your eyes wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell, you must forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You shall bring home your sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Many, and heavy, and with blossoms twined<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of memories that go not out of mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let this one sheaf be twined with poppy leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you bring home your sheaves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In garnered loves of thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ripe good fruit of many hearts and years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Somewhere let this lie, gray and salt with tears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It grew too near the sea wind, and the brine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of life, this love of mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This sheaf was spoiled in spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And over-long was green, and early sear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never gathered gold in the late year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From autumn suns, and moons of harvesting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But failed in frosts of spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet was it thine, my sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This love, though weak as young corn withered,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereof no man may gather and make bread;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine, though it never knew the summer heat;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget not quite, my sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Andrew Lang.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="METEMPSYCHOSIS" id="METEMPSYCHOSIS"></a>METEMPSYCHOSIS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SHALL not see thee, nay, but I shall know<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Perchance, thy gray eyes in another’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall guess thy curls in gracious locks that flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On purest brows, yea, and the swift surmise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall follow, and track, and find thee in disguise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all sad things, and fair, where sunsets glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When through the scent of heather, faint and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weak wind whispers to the day that dies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From all sweet art, and out of all “old rhyme,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine eyes and lips are light and song to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadows of the beauty of all time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Carven and sung are only shapes of thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas, the shadowy shapes! ah, sweet, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall life or death bring all thy being near?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Andrew Lang.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_BALLADE_OF_OLD_SWEETHEARTS" id="A_BALLADE_OF_OLD_SWEETHEARTS"></a>A BALLADE OF OLD SWEETHEARTS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HO is it that weeps for the last year’s flowers<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When the wood is aflame with the fires of spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we hear her voice in the lilac bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she croons the runes of the blossoming?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the same old blooms do the new years bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not to our lives do the years come so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">New lips must kiss and new bosoms cling.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah me! for a breath of those morning hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Alice and I went a-wandering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the shining fields, and it still was ours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To kiss and to feel we were shuddering—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah me! when a kiss was a holy thing.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweet were a smile from Maud, and oh!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Phyllis once more to be whispering.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But it cannot be that old Time devours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such loves as was Annie’s and mine we sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And surely beneficent heavenly powers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save Muriel’s beauty from perishing;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if in some golden evening<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a quaint old garden I chance to go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall Marion no more by the wicket sing?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In these lives of ours do the new years bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old loves as old flowers again to blow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or do new lips kiss and new bosoms cling?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Richard Le Gallienne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_MILE-END_ROAD" id="IN_THE_MILE-END_ROAD"></a>IN THE MILE-END ROAD.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW like her! But ’tis she herself<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Comes up the crowded street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How little did I think, the morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My only love to meet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose else that motion and that mien?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose else that airy tread?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one strange moment I forgot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My only love was dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Amy Levy.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVE_AFRAID" id="LOVE_AFRAID"></a>LOVE AFRAID.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DARED not lead my arm around<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Her dainty waist;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dared not seek her lips, that mine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hunger’d to taste:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dared not, for such awe I found,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O Love divine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I trembled as my eager hand<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her light touch graced;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when her fond look answer’d mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I dared not haste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But waited, holding my demand<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For farther sign.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet mouth, that with so sweet a sound<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My dread hath chased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to my lips the holy wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love’s vintage, placed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear heart, that ever now will bound<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or rest with mine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">W. J. Linton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_MY_MISTRESS" id="TO_MY_MISTRESS"></a>TO MY MISTRESS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OUNTESS, I see the flying year,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And feel how Time is wasting here:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, more, he soon his worst will do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And garner all your roses too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It pleases Time to fold his wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around our best and fairest things;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’ll mar your blooming cheek, as now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He stamps his mark upon my brow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The same mute planets rise and shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rule your days and nights as mine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once I was young and gay, and see—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What I am now you soon will be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet I boast a certain charm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shields me from your worst alarm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bids me gaze, with front sublime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On all these ravages of Time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You boast a gift to charm the eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I boast a gift that Time defies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For mine will still be mine, and last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all your pride of beauty’s past.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My gift may long embalm the lures<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of eyes—ah, sweet to me as yours!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ages hence the great and good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will judge you as I choose they should.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In days to come the peer or clown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With whom I still shall win renown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will only know that you were fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because I chanced to say you were.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Proud Lady! Scornful beauty mocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At aged heads and silver locks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But think awhile before you fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or spurn a poet such as I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Frederick Locker.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IT_IS_NOT_ALWAYS_MAY" id="IT_IS_NOT_ALWAYS_MAY"></a>IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE sun is bright,—the air is clear,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The darting swallows soar and sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the stately elms I hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bluebird prophesying spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So blue yon winding river flows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It seems an outlet from the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where waiting till the west-wind blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The freighted clouds at anchor lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All things are new,—the buds, the leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That gild the elm-tree’s nodding crest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And even the nest beneath the eaves;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There are no birds in last year’s nest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All things rejoice in youth and love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fulness of their first delight!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learn from the soft heavens above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The melting tenderness of night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For O, it is not always May!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Enjoy the spring of Love and Youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To some good angel leave the rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Time will teach thee soon the truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There are no birds in last year’s nest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ET_MELLE_ET_FELLE" id="ET_MELLE_ET_FELLE"></a>ET MELLE ET FELLE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT hast thou done to me,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Girl, with the dream in thine eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brightened the sun to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lightened the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made there be one to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One only sun to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not in the skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What hast thou done to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Girl, with the dream in thine eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkened the sun to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blackened the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made there be none to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor star nor sun to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only black skies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Love in a Mist.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_LOVE" id="A_SONG_OF_LOVE"></a>A SONG OF LOVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F in thine eyes<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I saw that softer light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth herald spring’s delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, love, how loud my heart should sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ev’n as the blackbird to the spring!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If on thy cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I saw that warm hue play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That doth bespeak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dawn of a new day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, love, how like the lark should rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul in rapture to the skies!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If from thy mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I heard such whisper low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from the South<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth through the pine-woods blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should my whole soul murmur through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With music, as the pine-woods do!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Love Lies Bleeding.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_LONELY_LANDSCAPE" id="THE_LONELY_LANDSCAPE"></a>THE LONELY LANDSCAPE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">T</span>HE place again—<br /></span> -<span class="ij">The wooded heights—the widening plain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whispering pines—the dry-leaved oaks, too young<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cast their dead dreams ere the new be sprung!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">What profits it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone on this prone slope to sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thou didst press the heath,—and see how dun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The landscape seems, lit only by the sun?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Yet, ah! not vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To visit thy fair haunts again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To trace thy footsteps by the upturned stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And conjure back thy looks, thy words, thy tone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Like music fine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That simple seeming speech of thine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath in it soft harmonics, only heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When from the memory fades the uttered word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And to mine eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Undazzled by thyself, doth rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An image lovelier and more like to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than even thy bodily self which sight can see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Ah! The wind shakes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The withered leaves, and Love awakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to the vacant landscape cries in vain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Ah, heaven! to have her at my side again!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Love Lies Bleeding.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_OUTCAST" id="THE_OUTCAST"></a>THE OUTCAST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU wilt come back again, but not for me,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Fair little face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou wilt come back, but, ah! I may not see<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That day of grace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No sword is at the Eden’s gate I leave;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But viewless hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have thrust me into endless night, to grieve<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In loveless lands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou wilt come back: thy footsteps make the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And birds sing round;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I, in wilderness wandering,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Shall hear no sound;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Save as far off the traveller athirst<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In desert lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hears waters that he may not reach, accursed<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In endless sands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Love Lies Bleeding.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AUF_WIEDERSEHEN" id="AUF_WIEDERSEHEN"></a>AUF WIEDERSEHEN!</h2> - -<h3>SUMMER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE little gate was reached at last,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Half hid in lilacs down the lane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She pushed it wide, and, as she past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wistful look she backward cast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And said,—“<span class="itlc">Auf wiedersehen!</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With hand on latch, a vision white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lingered reluctant, and again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half doubting if she did aright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft as the dews that fell that night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She said,—“<span class="itlc">Auf wiedersehen!</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lamp’s clear gleam flits up the stair;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I linger in delicious pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To breathe in thought I scarcely dare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinks she,—“<span class="itlc">Auf wiedersehen!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis thirteen years; once more I press<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The turf that silences the lane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the rustle of her dress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smell the lilacs, and—ah, yes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hear “<span class="itlc">Auf wiedersehen!</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet piece of bashful maiden art!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The English words had seemed too fain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But these—they drew us heart to heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet held us tenderly apart;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She said,—“<span class="itlc">Auf wiedersehen!</span>”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>PALINODE.</h3> - -<h3>AUTUMN.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TILL thirteen years: ’tis autumn now<br /></span> -<span class="ih">On field and hill, in heart and brain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The naked trees at evening sough;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaf to the forsaken bough<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sighs not,—“We meet again!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two watched yon oriole’s pendent dome,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That now is void, and dank with rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one,—O, hope more frail than foam!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bird to his deserted home<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sings not,—“We meet again!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The loath gate swings with rusty creak;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once, parting there, we played at pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There came a parting, when the weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fading lips essayed to speak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vainly,—“We meet again!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere is comfort, somewhere faith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though thou in outer dark remain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One sweet sad voice ennobles death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still for eighteen centuries saith<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Softly,—“Ye meet again!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If earth another grave must bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet heaven hath won a sweeter strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And something whispers my despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, from an orient chamber there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Floats down, “We meet again!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SEQUEL_TO_MY_QUEEN" id="SEQUEL_TO_MY_QUEEN"></a>SEQUEL TO “MY QUEEN.”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>ES, but the years run circling fleeter,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Ever they pass me—I watch, I wait—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever I dream, and awake to meet her;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She cometh never, or comes too late.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Should I press on? for the day grows shorter—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ought I to linger? the far end nears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever ahead have I looked, and sought her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the bright sky-line of the gathering years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now that the shadows are eastward sloping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I screen mine eyes from the slanting sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cometh a thought—It is past all hoping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Look not ahead, she is missed and gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here on the ridge of my upward travel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere the life-line dips to the darkening vales,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sadly I turn, and would fain unravel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The entangled maze of a search that fails.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When and where have I seen and passed her?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What are the words I forgot to say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should we have met had a boat rowed faster?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should we have loved had I stayed that day?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it her face that I saw, and started,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gliding away in a train that crossed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was it a form that I once, faint-hearted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Followed awhile in a crowd, and lost?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it there she lived, when the train went sweeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the moon through the landscape hushed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somebody called me, I woke from sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saw but a hamlet—and on we rushed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listen and linger—She yet may find me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the last faint flush of the waning light—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never a step on the path behind me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I must journey alone, to the lonely night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But is there somewhere on earth, I wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fading figure, with eyes that wait,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who says, as she stands in the distance yonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“He cometh never, or comes too late”?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Sir Alfred Lyall.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IF" id="IF"></a>IF ...?</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>O you but love me, be it your own way,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">In your own time, no sooner than you will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No warmer than you would from day to day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But love me still!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each day that still you love me seems to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little fairer than the day before;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, daily given, love’s least must daily be<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A little more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And be my most gain’d your least given, if such<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your sweet will be! I reckon not the cost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor count the gain, by little or by much,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or least or most.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little or much, to me the gift I crave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is all in all. There is not any measure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of more or less can gauge the need I have<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of that dear treasure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So you but love me, tho’ your love be cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine it can chill not. Tho’ your love come late,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine for its coming, by sweet dreams foretold,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Will dreaming wait.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet ah, if some fair chance, before I die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One hour of waking life might let me live,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rich with the dream’d-of dear reality<br /></span> -<span class="i6">’Tis yours to give!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your whole sweet self, with your sweet self’s whole love!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those eyes of fire and dew, those lips wish-haunted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those feet whose steps like elfin music move<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thro’ worlds enchanted!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your whole sweet self! The unutter’d thoughts that stir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your lonest musings with light wings unheard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feelings that find no interpreter<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In deed or word!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your whole sweet self, that till by love reveal’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even to yourself still half unknown must be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For of the wealth in souls like yours conceal’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Love keeps the key.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, if your whole sweet self, by all the power<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of your sweet self’s whole love in some divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far distant hour made wholly yours, that hour<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Made wholly mine,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if in that blest hour all dreams came true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All doubts dissolved, all fears were whirl’d away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In one wild storm of tendernesses new<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As time’s first day,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What should we both be? Hush! I do not dare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even to hear my own heart’s whisper utter’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be its sole answerer the silent air<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This sigh has flutter’d!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Robert, Lord Lytton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OMENS_AND_ORACLES" id="OMENS_AND_ORACLES"></a>OMENS AND ORACLES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL the phantoms of the future, all the spectres of the past,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">In the wakeful night came round me, sighing, crying, “Fool, beware!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Check the feeling o’er thee stealing! Let thy first love be thy last!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or, if love again thou must, at least this fatal love forbear!”<br /></span> -<span class="i15"><span class="itlc">Marah Amara!</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now the dark breaks. Now the lark wakes. Now their voices fleet away.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the breeze about the blossom, and the ripple in the reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the beams and buds and birds begin to whisper, sing, or say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Love her, love her, for she loves thee!” And I know not which to heed.<br /></span> -<span class="i15"><span class="itlc">Cara Amara!</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Robert, Lord Lytton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_GARDEN_OF_MEMORY" id="THE_GARDEN_OF_MEMORY"></a>THE GARDEN OF MEMORY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a certain garden where I know<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That flowers flourish in a poet’s spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where aye young birds their amorous matins sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never ill wind comes, nor any snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if you wonder where so fair a show,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where such eternal pleasure may be seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I say, my memory keeps that garden green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein I loved my first love long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Justin Huntly McCarthy.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IF_I_WERE_A_MONK_AND_THOU_WERT_A_NUN" id="IF_I_WERE_A_MONK_AND_THOU_WERT_A_NUN"></a>IF I WERE A MONK, AND THOU WERT A NUN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F I were a monk, and thou wert a nun,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Pacing it wearily, wearily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From chapel to cell till day were done<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! how would it be with these hearts of ours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That need the sunshine and smiles and flowers?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To prayer, to prayer, at the matins’ call,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Morning foul or fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such prayer as from lifeless lips may fall—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Words, but hardly prayer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vainly trying the thoughts to raise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in the sunshine would burst in praise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou, in the glory of cloudless noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The God revealing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turning thy face from the boundless boon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Painfully kneeling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in thy chamber’s still solitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bending thy head o’er the legend rude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, in a cool and lonely nook,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gloomily, gloomily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poring over some musty book<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thoughtfully, thoughtfully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or on the parchment margin unrolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Painting quaint pictures in purple and gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perchance in slow procession to meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In an antique, narrow, high-gabled street,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy dark eyes lifted to mine, and then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavily sinking to earth again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sunshine and air! warmness and spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Merrily, merrily!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back to its cell each weary thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the heart so withered and dry and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most at home in the cloister cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou on thy knees at the vespers’ call,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I looking up on the darkening wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chime so sweet to the boat at sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listless and dead to thee and me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then to the lone couch at death of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rising at midnight again to pray<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wearily, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if through the dark those eyes looked in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sending them far as a thought of sin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then when thy spirit was passing away,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dreamily, dreamily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth-born dwelling returning to clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleepily, sleepily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over thee held the crucified Best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But no warm face to thy cold cheek pressed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when my spirit was passing away,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dreamily, dreamily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gray head lying ’mong ashes gray<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleepily, sleepily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hovering angel-woman above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting to clasp me in deathless love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now, beloved, thy hand in mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Peacefully, peacefully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My arm around thee, my lips on thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lovingly, lovingly,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! is not a better thing to us given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than wearily going alone to heaven?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Macdonald.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_BALLADE_OF_COLOURS" id="A_BALLADE_OF_COLOURS"></a>A BALLADE OF COLOURS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE went with morning down the wood<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Between the green and blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunlight on the grass was good,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the year was new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There Love came o’er the flowers to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A goodly sight to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From crownèd hair to wing-feather;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Arise and come with me.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She walked with him in Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between the white and red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Love’s own kiss between her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s crown upon her head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why two in heaven should not be thus<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ever, who may know?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love spread his wings most glorious;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Arise,” he said, “I go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She came and sate down silently<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between the gray and gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wet wind beat the leafless tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Love was gone away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The woodland breaks to flower anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The days bring back the year;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But how am I to comfort you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dear, my dear, my dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">J. W. Mackail.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MY_AMAZON" id="MY_AMAZON"></a>MY AMAZON.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y Love is a lady fair and free,<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">A lady fair from over the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she hath eyes that pierce my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rob my spirit of peace and rest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> YOUTHFUL warrior, warm and young,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">She takes me prisoner with her tongue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye! and she keeps me—on parole—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till paid the ransom of my soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SWEAR the foeman, arm’d for war<br /></span> -<span class="ih">From <span class="itlc">cap-à-pie</span>, with many a scar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More mercy finds for prostrate foe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than she who deals me never a blow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND so ’twill be, this many a day;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">She comes to wound, if not to slay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in my dreams—in honeyed sleep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis I to smile, and she to weep!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Eric Mackay.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHANGED_LOVE" id="CHANGED_LOVE"></a>CHANGED LOVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN did the change come, dearest Heart of mine,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Whom Love loves so?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When did Love’s moon less brightly seem to shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">While to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And soft and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chill winds began to move in its decline?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When did the change come, thou who wast mine own?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When heard the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First far-off winds begin to moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">At sunset’s close,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When sad Love goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the autumn woods to brood alone?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When did the change come in thy heart, sweetheart,—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thy heart so dear to me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In what thing did I fail to bear my part,—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My part to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Whose deity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul confesses, and how fair thou art?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas for poor changed Love! We cannot say<br /></span> -<span class="i8">What changes Love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love would not suffice to make your day<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Now gladly move,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Though kisses strove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With answering kisses, in Love’s sweetest way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But though I know you changed, right well I know<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That should we meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in your heart some love for me would glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Though not that heat<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Which made it beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fast with joy two years—<span class="itlc">one</span> year ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Philip Bourke Marston.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SUMMERS_RETURN" id="SUMMERS_RETURN"></a>SUMMER’S RETURN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>NCE more I walk mid summer days, as one<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Returning to the place where first he met<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The face that he till death may not forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know the scent of roses just begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how at evening and at morn the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Falls on the places that remember yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What feet last year within their bounds were set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what sweet things were said and dreamt and done.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sultry silence of the summer night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recalls to me the loved voice far away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, surely I shall see some early day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In places that last year with love were bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The face of her I love, and hear the low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet troubled music of the voice I know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Philip Bourke Marston.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MINE" id="MINE"></a>MINE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N that tranced hush when sound sank awed to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Ere from her spirit’s rose-red, rose-sweet gate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came forth to me her royal word of fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did she sigh “Yes,” and droop upon my breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While round our rapture, dumb, fixed, unexpressed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the seized senses, there did fluctuate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The plaintive surges of our mortal state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tempering the poignant ecstasy too blest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do I wake into a dream, or have we twain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lured by soft wiles to some unconscious crime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dared joys forbid to man? Oh, Light supreme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon our brows transfiguring glory rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor let the sword of thy just angel gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On two who entered heaven before their time!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Westland Marston.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AUBADE2" id="AUBADE2"></a>AUBADE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN fair Hyperion dons his night attire,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Purple and silver, and his eyes with sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go trembling, and the lids a-kissing keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And up he wings the plains of heaven the higher<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The starry meadows all uncurl and creep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With twinkling shoots that tremble out and leap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From buds into a blossoming of fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Spring, with primrose fillet round her brows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drifts on the dawn into the hyacinth west,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flings fresh handfuls hoarded in her nest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tasty flowers, to Flora making vows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The snow leaps down the mountain-side, and, press’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With weight of leaves, the earth at happiest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rills into rivers thick from blossom-boughs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Liris comes sometime at break of day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To take the vervain garlands from the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ve hung there fresh with dew an hour before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chances with soft eyes to look my way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart brims out with love, and crowding o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The passion-songs and rhythms spring and pour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As storms in June, or blossom-boughs in May.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Theo. Marzials.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PHIAL_AND_THE_PHILTRE" id="THE_PHIAL_AND_THE_PHILTRE"></a>THE PHIAL AND THE PHILTRE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y lady has a casket cut<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">In scarlet coral, crimson-red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Cupid’s bow, to keep it shut,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two pouting locks are tightenèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In cunning curvings chisellèd.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some mighty wizard it did make,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So strong that nothing can undo;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if you thence would treasure take,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You press your lips the clasping to;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The magic word’s “<span class="itlc">I love but you!</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’ll find a row of pearls within,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As pure as scarce come from the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And set the rose and crimson in,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Twinkling with sweetest symmetry,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I trow most beautiful to see!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And eke the clasp ’s so cunning wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That as it opens, treble clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There comes a music, glib befraught,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like silver lutes, that to the ear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As sweet love-ditties do appear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there within, as peach and rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pine and plum, most savoury choice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Elixirs sweet my Lady stows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make the saddest heart rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or passionate the poet’s voice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A rich soul-philtre, that to sip<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I swear must be to drain it dry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never take away your lip<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till time has toll’d your time to die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet dying, love eternally.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Theo. Marzials.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NOT_I_SWEET_SOUL_NOT_I" id="NOT_I_SWEET_SOUL_NOT_I"></a>NOT I, SWEET SOUL, NOT I.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL glorious as the Rainbow’s birth,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">She came in Springtide’s golden hours;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And May was crowned with buds and flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mounting devil at my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clomb faintlier, as my life did win<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The charmèd heaven she wrought apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wake its better Angel in.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With radiant mien she trode serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And passed me smiling by!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! who that looked could help but love?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not I, sweet soul, not I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dewy eyelids of the Dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne’er oped such heaven as hers did show:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seemed her dear eyes might have shone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As jewels in some starry brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her face flashed glory like a shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of lily-bell with sunburst bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where came and went love-thoughts divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As low winds walk the leaves in light:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wore her beauty with the grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Summer’s star-clad sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! who that looked could help but love?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not I, sweet soul, not I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her budding breasts like fragrant fruit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love were ripening to be pressed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her voice, that shook my heart’s red root,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might not have broken a Babe’s rest,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More liquid than the running brooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More vernal than the voice of Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Nightingales are in their nooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the leafy thickets ring.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love she coyly hid at heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was shyly conscious in her eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! who that looked could help but love?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not I, sweet soul, not I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Gerald Massey.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AT_DINNER_SHE_IS_HOSTESS" id="AT_DINNER_SHE_IS_HOSTESS"></a>AT DINNER SHE IS HOSTESS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>T dinner she is hostess, I am host.<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The topic over intellectual deeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is in truth a most contagious game:<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hiding the skeleton</span> shall be its name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such play as this the devils might appall!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But here’s the greater wonder; in that we,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enamoured of our acting and our wits,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Admire each other like true hypocrites.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm lighted glances, Love’s Ephemeræ,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shoot gaily o’er the dishes and the wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We waken envy of our happy lot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fast, sweet, and golden, shows our marriage-knot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear guests, you now have seen Love’s corpse-light shine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Meredith.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVE_WITHIN_THE_LOVERS_BREAST" id="LOVE_WITHIN_THE_LOVERS_BREAST"></a>LOVE WITHIN THE LOVER’S BREAST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE within the lover’s breast<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Burns like Hesper in the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the ashes of the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the day and night are done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, when dawn drives up his car—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! it is the morning star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love! thy love pours down on mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the sunlight on the vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the snow rill on the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the salt breeze on the sail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the song unto the bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On my lips thy name is heard.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As a dewdrop on the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thy heart my passion glows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a skylark to the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up into thy breast I fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a sea-shell of the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever shall I sing of thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Meredith.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_DEAD_MARCH" id="A_DEAD_MARCH"></a>A DEAD MARCH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>LAY me a march low-toned and slow,—a march for a silent tread,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Fit for the wandering feet of one who dreams of the silent dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lonely, between the bones below and the souls that are overhead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here for a while they smiled and sang, alive in the interspace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here with the grass beneath the foot, and the stars above the face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now are their feet beneath the grass, and whither has flown their grace?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who shall assure us whence they come or tell us the way they go?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verily, life with them was joy, and now they have left us, woe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once they were not, and now they are not, and this is the sum we know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Orderly range the seasons due, and orderly roll the stars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How shall we deem the soldier brave who frets of his wounds and scars?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are we as senseless brutes that we should dash at the well-seen bars?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No, we are here with feet unfixed, but ever as if with lead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawn from the orbs which shine above to the orb on which we tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down to the dust from which we came and with which we shall mingle dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No, we are here to wait and work, and strain our banished eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weary and sick of soil and toil, and hungry and fain for skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far from the reach of wingless men and not to be scaled with cries.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why do we mourn the days that go,—for the same sun shines each day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever a spring her primrose hath, and ever a May her may,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet as the rose that died last year, is the rose that is born to-day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do we not too return, we men, as ever the round earth whirls?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never a head is dimmed with gray but another is sunned with curls.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was a girl and he was a boy, but yet there are boys and girls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, but alas for the smile of smiles that never but one face wore!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, for the voice that has flown away like a bird to an unseen shore!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, for the face—the flower of flowers—that blossoms on earth no more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Cosmo Monkhouse.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FAIR_STAR_THAT_ON_THE_SHOULDER_OF_YON_HILL" id="FAIR_STAR_THAT_ON_THE_SHOULDER_OF_YON_HILL"></a>FAIR STAR THAT ON THE SHOULDER OF YON HILL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR star that on the shoulder of yon hill<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Peepest, a little eye of tranquil night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come forth. Nor sun nor moon there is to kill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy ray with broader light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine, star of eve that art so bright and clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine, little star, and bring my lover here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lover! oh, fair word for maid to hear!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lover who was yesterday my friend!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, strange we did not know before how near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our stream of life smoothed to its fated end!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine, star of eve, as Love’s self bright and clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine, little star, and bring my lover here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He comes! I hear the echo of his feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He comes! I fear to stay, I cannot go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Love, that thou art shame-fast, bitter-sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mingled with pain, and conversant with woe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine, star of eve, more bright as night draws near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine, little star, and bring my lover here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Lewis Morris.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THY_SHADOW_O_TARDY_NIGHT" id="THY_SHADOW_O_TARDY_NIGHT"></a>THY SHADOW, O TARDY NIGHT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HY shadow, O tardy night,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Creeps onward by valley and hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scarce to my streaming sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Show the white road-reaches still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O night, stay now a little, little space,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let me see the light of my beloved’s face!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love is late, O night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what has kept him away?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I know that he takes not delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the garish joys of day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haste, night, dear night, that bring’st my love to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if his footsteps halt and tarry but for thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, what if his footsteps slide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the swaying bridge of pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whirled seaward by the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the loved form I counted mine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O night, dear night, that comest yet dost not come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How shall I wait the hour that brings my darling home?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Lewis Morris.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FIRST_LYRIC" id="THE_FIRST_LYRIC"></a>THE FIRST LYRIC.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE is enough: though the World be a waning<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Morris.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_CONCLUDING_LYRIC" id="THE_CONCLUDING_LYRIC"></a>THE CONCLUDING LYRIC.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE is enough: ho, ye who seek saving,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These know the Cup with the roses around it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These know the World’s wound and the balm that hath bound it:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cry out, the World heedeth not, “Love, lead us home!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He leadeth, he hearkeneth, he cometh to you-ward;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set your faces as steel to the fears that assemble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cry out, for he heedeth, “O Love, lead us home.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, hearken the words of his voice of compassion:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the weary unrest and the world’s passing fashion!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But surely within you some Godhead doth quicken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Come—pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come—fear ye shall have, mid the sky’s over-casting!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come—change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come—no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the kissed lips of Love and fair life ever-lasting!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cry out, for one heedeth who leadeth you home!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is he gone? was he with us? ho, ye who seek saving,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here is the Cup with the roses around it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The World’s wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Morris.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BESIDE_A_BIER" id="BESIDE_A_BIER"></a>BESIDE A BIER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> HAD never kissed her her whole life long,—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Now I stand by her bier, does she feel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How with love that the waiting years made strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I set on her lips my seal?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will she wear my kiss in the grave’s long night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wake sometimes with a thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From dreams of the old life’s missed delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To feel that the grave is chill?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“It was warm,” will she say, “in that world above;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It was warm, but I did not know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How he loved me there, with his whole life’s love,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is cold down here below.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Louise Chandler Moulton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HEREAFTER" id="HEREAFTER"></a>HEREAFTER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N after years a twilight ghost shall fill<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With shadowy presence all thy waiting room:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From lips of air thou canst not kiss the bloom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet at old kisses will thy pulses thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the old longing that thou couldst not kill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feeling her presence in the gathering gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will mock thee with the hopelessness of doom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While she stands there and smiles, serene and still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou canst not vex her, then, with passion’s pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call, and the silence will thy call repeat;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she will smile there, with cold lips and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetful of old tortures, and the chain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That once she wore, the tears she wept in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At passing from her threshold of thy feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Louise Chandler Moulton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FORTUNIOS_SONG" id="FORTUNIOS_SONG"></a>FORTUNIO’S SONG.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the French of Alfred de Musset.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OMRADES! in vain ye seek to learn<br /></span> -<span class="ih">For whom I burn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not for a kingdom would I dare<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her name declare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But we will chant in chorus still,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If so you will,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she I love is blonde and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As blades of wheat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whate’er her wayward fancies ask<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Becomes my task;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should she my very life demand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Tis in her hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pain of passion unrevealed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Can scarce be healed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such pain within my heart I bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To my despair:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nathless I love her all too well<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her name to tell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I would sooner die than e’er<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her name declare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">George Murray.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SPLENDIDE_MENDAX" id="SPLENDIDE_MENDAX"></a>SPLENDIDE MENDAX.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN God some day shall call my name<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And scorch me with a blaze of shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing to light my inmost thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the evil I have wrought,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tearing away the veils I wove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hide my foulness from my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaving my transgressions bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the whole heaven’s clear, cold air—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When all the angels weep to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The branded outcast soul of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One saint at least will hide her face,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will not look at my disgrace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“At least, O God, O God Most High,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He loved me truly!” she will cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And God will pause before He send<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul to find its fitting end.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, lest heaven’s light should leave her face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think one loved her and was base,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will speak out at judgment day,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I never loved her!” I will say.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">E. Nesbit.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_KISS" id="THE_KISS"></a>THE KISS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE snow is white on wood and wold,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The wind is in the firs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So dead my heart is with the cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No pulse within it stirs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even to see your face, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your face that was my sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no spring this bitter year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And summer’s dreams are done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The snakes that lie about my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are in their wintry sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their fangs no more deal sting and smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more they curl and creep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love with the summer ceased to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frost is firm and fast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God keep the summer far from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let the snakes’ sleep last!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Touch of your hand could not suffice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To waken them once more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor could the sunshine of your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A ruined spring restore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah—your lips! You know the rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The snows are summer rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My eyes are wet, and in my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The snakes’ fangs meet again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">E. Nesbit.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_MILL" id="THE_MILL"></a>THE MILL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE wheel goes round, the wheel goes round<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With drip and whir and plash,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It keeps all green the grassy ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The alder, beech, and ash.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ferns creep out mid mosses cool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forget-me-nots are found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue in the shadow by the pool—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still the wheel goes round.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Round goes the wheel, round goes the wheel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The foam is white like cream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The merry waters dance and reel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the stony stream.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little garden of the mill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is enchanted ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smell its stocks and wall-flowers still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still the wheel goes round.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wheel goes round, the wheel goes round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And life’s wheel too must go,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all their clamour has not drowned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A voice I used to know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her window’s blank. The garden’s bare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As her chill new-made mound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still my heart’s delight is there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still the wheel goes round.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">E. Nesbit.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_PASTORAL" id="A_PASTORAL"></a>A PASTORAL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y love and I among the mountains strayed,<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">When heaven and earth in summer heat were still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aware anon that at our feet were laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within a sunny hollow of the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A long-haired shepherd lover and a maid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They saw nor heard us, who a space above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With hands clasped close as hers were clasped in his,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marked how the gentle golden sunlight strove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To play about their leaf-crowned curls, and kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their burnished slender limbs, half-barèd to his love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But grave or pensive seemed the boy to grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For while upon the grass unfingered lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slim twin-pipes, he ever watched with slow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dream-laden looks the ridge that far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surmounts the sleeping midsummer with snow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These things we saw; moreover we could hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The girl’s soft voice of laughter, grown more bold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the utter noonday silence, sweet and clear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Why dost thou think? By thinking one grows old.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wouldst thou for all the world be old, my dear?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here my love turned to me, but her eyes told<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her thought with smiles before she spoke a word;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And being quick their meaning to behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I could not chuse but echo what we heard:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Sweetheart, wouldst thou for all the world be old?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">J. B. B. Nichols.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VIGILATE_ITAQUE" id="VIGILATE_ITAQUE"></a>VIGILATE ITAQUE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE restless years that come and go,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The cruel years so swift and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once in our lives perchance will show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What they can give that we may know;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Too soon perchance, or else too late;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We may look back or we may wait;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The years are incompassionate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And who shall touch the robe of fate?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once only; haply if we keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watch with our lamps and do not sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our eyes shall, when the night is deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold the bridegroom’s face,—and weep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! for better far it were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Love were heedless of our prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than that his glory he should bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And show himself to our despair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Better to wander till we die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never come the door anigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than weeping sore without to lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And get no answer to our cry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O child! the night is cold and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The way is rough with rain and wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Narrow and steep and hard to find;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I have found thee—love, be kind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">J. B. B. Nichols.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_HORIZON" id="THE_HORIZON"></a>THE HORIZON.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>H, would, oh, would that thou and I,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Now this brief day of love is past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could toward the sunset straightway fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fold our wearied wings at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, where the sea-line meets the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sweet thing and a strange ’twould be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus, thus to break our prison bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know that we at last were free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As voiceful waves and silent stars,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, where the sky-line meets the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But vain the longing! thou and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we have been must ever be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet thither, wind, oh, waft my sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There where the sky-line meets the sea,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There where the sea-line meets the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">James Ashcroft Noble.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SHADOWS" id="SHADOWS"></a>SHADOWS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ZURE of sky and silver of cloud<br /></span> -<span class="ih">In the deep dark water show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amber of field and emerald of wood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That were pictured long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here, as of old, the beauty above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And its shadow there below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why was their message jubilant then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And their meaning now but woe?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, not the same, O fool, as of yore!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These be other leaves that grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other the harvests, other the waves;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Other the breezes that blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sameness in sooth, but difference too;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a simple change I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within beholder, without in scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It may alter meaning so!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shadow of her who looked down with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the depths so long ago—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were all your archness glimmering there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would the picture breathe but woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Joseph O’Connor.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_FAREWELL" id="A_FAREWELL"></a>A FAREWELL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ATH any loved you well down there,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Summer or winter through?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down there, have you found any fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laid in the grave with you?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is death’s long kiss a richer kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than mine was wont to be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or have you gone to some far bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quite forgotten me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What soft enamouring of sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath you in some soft way?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What charmed death holdeth you with deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strange lure by night and day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little space below the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of the sun and shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But worlds away from me, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down there where you are laid!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My bright hair’s waved and wasted gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What is it now to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether the rose-red life I hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or white death holdeth me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down there you love the grave’s own green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And evermore you rave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some sweet seraph you have seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or dreamed of in the grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There you shall lie as you have lain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though in the world above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another live your life again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loving again your love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it not sweet beneath the palm?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is not the warm day rife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With some long mystic golden calm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Better than love and life?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The broad quaint odorous leaves, like hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weaving the fair day through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weave sleep no burnished bird withstands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While death weaves sleep for you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a strange rich breathing sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ravishes morn and noon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in that place you must have found<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death a delicious swoon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hold me no longer for a word<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I used to say or sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! long ago you must have heard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So many a sweeter thing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For rich earth must have reached your heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turned the faith to flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And warm wind stolen, part by part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your soul through faithless hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And many a soft seed must have won<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soil of some yielding thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bring a bloom up to the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That else had ne’er been brought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And doubtless many a passionate hue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath made that place more fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making some passionate part of you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faithless to me down there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Arthur O’Shaughnessy.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG2" id="SONG2"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>AS summer come without the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Or left the bird behind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the blue changed above thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O world! or am I blind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will you change every flower that grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or only change this spot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where she who said, I love thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now says, I love thee not?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The skies seemed true above thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rose true on the tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bird seemed true the summer through,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But all proved false to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">World, is there one good thing in you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life, love, or death—or what?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since lips that sang, I love thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have said, I love thee not?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I think the sun’s kiss will scarce fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into one flower’s gold cup;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think the bird will miss me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And give the summer up.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sweet place! desolate in tall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild grass, have you forgot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How her lips loved to kiss me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now that they kiss me not?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Be false or fair above me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come back with any face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summer! do I care what you do?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You cannot change one place—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grass, the leaves, the earth, the dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grave I make this spot—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, where she used to love me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here, where she loves me not.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Arthur O’Shaughnessy.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SUPREME_SUMMER" id="SUPREME_SUMMER"></a>SUPREME SUMMER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> HEART full of song in the sweet song-weather,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">A voice fills each bower, a wing shakes each tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come forth, O winged singer, on song’s fairest feather,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And make a sweet fame of my love and of me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blithe world shall ever have fair loving leisure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And long is the summer for bird and for bee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But too short the summer and too keen the pleasure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of me kissing her and of her kissing me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Songs shall not cease of the hills and the heather;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Songs shall not fail of the land and the sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, O heart, if you sing not while we are together,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What man shall remember my love or me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some million of summers hath been and not known her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath known and forgotten loves less fair than she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But one summer knew her, and grew glad to own her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And made her its flower, and gave her to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she and I loving, on earth seem to sever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some part of the great blue from heaven each day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know that the heaven and the earth are for ever,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that which we take shall with us pass away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And that which she gives me shall be for no lover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In any new love-time, the world’s lasting while;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world, when it looses, shall never recover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gold of her hair nor the sun of her smile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A tree grows in heaven, where no season blanches<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or stays the new fruit through the long golden clime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love reaches up, takes a fruit from its branches,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gives it to me to be mine for all time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What care I for other fruits, fed with new fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plucked down by new lovers in fair future line?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fruit that I have is the thing I desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To live of and die of,—the sweet she makes mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she and I loving, are king of one summer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And queen of one summer to gather and glean:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world is for us what no fair future comer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall find it or dream it could ever have been.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The earth, as we lie on its bosom, seems pressing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heart up to bear us and mix with our heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blue, as we wonder, drops down a great blessing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That soothes us and fills us and makes the tears start.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The summer is full of strange hundredth-year flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That breathe all their lives the warm air of our love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never shall know a love other than ours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till once more some phœnix-star flowers above.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The silver cloud passing is friend of our loving;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sea, never knowing this year from last year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is thick with fair words, between roaring and soughing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For her and me only to gather and hear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, the life that we lead now is better and sweeter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I think, than shall be in the world by and bye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For those days, be they longer or fewer or fleeter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will not exchange on the day that I die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall die when the rose-tree about and above me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her red kissing mouth seems hath kissed summer through:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall die on the day that she ceases to love me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that will not be till the day she dies too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, fall on us, dead leaves of our dear roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ruins of summer fall on us erelong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hide us away where our dead year reposes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let all that we leave in the world be—a song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, O song that I sing now while we are together,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go, sing to some new year of women and men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How I and she loved in the long loving weather,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ask if they love on as we two loved then.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Arthur O’Shaughnessy.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AS_ONE_WOULD_STAND_WHO_SAW_A_SUDDEN_LIGHT" id="AS_ONE_WOULD_STAND_WHO_SAW_A_SUDDEN_LIGHT"></a>AS ONE WOULD STAND WHO SAW A SUDDEN LIGHT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S one would stand who saw a sudden light<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Flood down the world, and so encompass him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in that world illumined Seraphim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brooded above and gladdened to his sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So stand I in the flame of one great thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That broadens to my soul from where she waits,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who, yesterday, drew wide the inner gates<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all my being to the hopes I sought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her words come to me like a summer-song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown from the throat of some sweet nightingale;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stand within her light the whole day long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think upon her till the white stars fail:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I lift my head towards all that makes life wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see no farther than my lady’s eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Gilbert Parker.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DEPARTURE" id="DEPARTURE"></a>DEPARTURE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was not like your great and gracious ways!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Do you, that have nought other to lament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never, my Love, repent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of how, that July afternoon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sudden, unintelligible phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frighten’d eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon your journey of so many days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a single kiss, or a good-bye?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so we sate, within the low sun’s rays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You whispering to me, for your voice was weak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your harrowing praise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well, it was well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear you such things speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I could tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What made your eyes a growing gloom of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a warm south-wind sombres a March grove.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it was like your great and gracious ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To let the laughter flash,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst I drew near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all at once to leave me at the last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More at the wonder than the loss aghast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With huddled, unintelligible phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frighten’d eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And go your journey of all days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With not one kiss, or a good-bye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the only loveless look the look with which you passed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Coventry Patmore.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CADENCES" id="CADENCES"></a>CADENCES.</h2> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Minor.</span></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE ancient memories buried lie,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And the olden fancies pass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old sweet flower-thoughts wither and fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And die as the April cowslips die<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That scatter the bloomy grass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All dead, my dear! And the flowers are dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the happy blossoming spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winter comes with its iron tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fields with the dying sun are red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the birds have ceased to sing.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I trace the steps on the wasted strand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the vanished springtime’s feet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withered and dead is our Fairyland,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Love and Death go hand in hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go hand in hand, my sweet!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Major.</span></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Oh, what shall be the burden of our rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what shall be our ditty when the blossom’s on the lime?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our lips have fed on winter and on weariness too long:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will hail the royal summer with a golden-footed song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O lady of my summer and my spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shall hear the blackbird whistle and the brown sweet throstle sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the low clear noise of waters running softly by our feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the sights and sounds of summer in the green clear fields are sweet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">We shall see the roses blowing in the green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pink-lipped roses kissing in the golden summer sheen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shall see the fields flower thick with stars and bells of summer gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the poppies burn out red and sweet across the corn-crowned wold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The time shall be for pleasure, not for pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There shall come no ghost of grieving for the past betwixt us twain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the time of roses our lives shall grow together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our love be as the love of gods in the blue Olympian weather.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Payne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHANT_ROYAL_OF_THE_GOD_OF_LOVE" id="CHANT_ROYAL_OF_THE_GOD_OF_LOVE"></a>CHANT ROYAL OF THE GOD OF LOVE.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MOST fair God, O Love both new and old,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That wast before the flowers of morning blew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the glad sun in his mail of gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leapt into light across the first day’s dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That art the first and last of our delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in the blue day and the purple night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Holdest the hearts of servant and of king,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lord of liesse, sovran of sorrowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in thy hand hast heaven’s golden key<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hell beneath the shadow of thy wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What thing rejects thy mastery? Who so bold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But at thine altars in the dusk they sue?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the straight pale goddess, silver-stoled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That kissed Endymion when the spring was new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee did homage in her own despite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in the shadow of her wings of white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She slid down trembling from her moonèd ring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To where the Latmian boy lay slumbering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in that kiss put off cold chastity.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who but acclaim with voice and pipe and string,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Master of men and gods, in every fold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of thy wide vans the sorceries that renew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The labouring earth, tranced with the winter’s cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lie hid—the quintessential charms that woo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The souls of flowers, slain with the sullen might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the dead year, and draw them to the light.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Balsam and blessing to thy garments cling;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Skyward and seaward, when thy white hands fling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their spells of healing over land and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One shout of homage makes the welkin ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span>”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see thee throned aloft; thy fair hands hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Myrtles for joy, and euphrasy and rue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laurels and roses round thy white brows rolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in thine eyes the royal heaven’s hue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in thy lips’ clear colour, ruddy bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart’s blood shines of many a hapless wight.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art not only fair and sweet as spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Terror and beauty, fear and wondering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meet on thy brow, amazing all that see:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All men do praise thee, ay, and everything;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I fear thee, though I love. Who can behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sheer sun burning in the orbèd blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What while the noontide over hill and wold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flames like a fire, except his mazèd view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wither and tremble? So thy splendid sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fills me with mingled gladness and affright.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy visage haunts me in the wavering<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of dreams, and in the dawn awakening,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feel thy radiance streaming full on me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both fear and joy unto thy feet I bring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span></p> - -<h3>ENVOY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God above Gods, High and Eternal King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom the spheral symphonies do sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I find no whither from thy power to flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save in thy pinions vast o’ershadowing.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Payne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FALSE_SPRING" id="FALSE_SPRING"></a>FALSE SPRING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> BIRDS, ’twas not well done of you!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">O flowers and breeze, right well ye knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weary glamour that the spring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had laid for me on every thing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas but to bring me back again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of the olden pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You lured me out with songs of birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With violet breath and fair false words!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For lo! my feet had hardly passed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woven band of flowerage, cast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betwixt the meadows and the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, in the bird-songs and the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another strain was taken up;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And out of every blue-bell’s cup<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mocking voices sang again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The olden songs of love and pain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flowers did mimic the old grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wan white windflowers wore her face;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in the stream I heard her words;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her voice came rippling from the birds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead love, I saw thy form anew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bend down among the violets blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, like a mist, the memory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all the past came back to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Payne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_JUNE" id="IN_JUNE"></a>IN JUNE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>O sweet, so sweet the roses in their blowing,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">So sweet the daffodils, so fair to see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So blithe and gay the humming-bird a-going<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From flower to flower, a-hunting with the bee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So sweet, so sweet the calling of the thrushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The calling, cooing, wooing, everywhere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweet the water’s song through reeds and rushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The plover’s piping note, now here, now there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So sweet, so sweet from off the fields of clover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The west wind blowing, blowing up the hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweet, so sweet with news of some one’s lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fleet footsteps, singing nearer, nearer still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So near, so near, now listen, listen, thrushes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now, plover, blackbird, cease, and let me hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, water, hush your song through reeds and rushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I may know whose lover cometh near.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So loud, so loud the thrushes kept their calling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plover or blackbird never heeding me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So loud the millstream too kept fretting, falling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er bar and bank in brawling, boisterous glee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So loud, so loud; yet blackbird, thrush nor plover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor noisy millstream, in its fret and fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could drown the voice, the low voice of my lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lover calling through the thrushes’ call.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Come down, come down!” he called, and straight the thrushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From mate to mate sang all at once, “Come down!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while the water laughed through reeds and rushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blackbird chirped, the plover piped, “Come down!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then down and off, and through the fields of clover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I followed, followed at my lover’s call;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listening no more to blackbird, thrush or plover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The water’s laugh, the millstream’s fret and fall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Nora Perry.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_WINTER" id="A_SONG_OF_WINTER"></a>A SONG OF WINTER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ARB’d blossom of the guarded gorse,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I love thee where I see thee shine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou sweetener of our common ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brightener of our wintry days.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flower of the gorse, the rose is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art undying, oh, be mine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be mine with all thy thorns, and prest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close on a heart that asks not rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I pluck thee, and thy stigma set<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon my breast and on my brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, buds, and ’plenish so my wreath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That none may know the wounds beneath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O crown of thorn that seem’st of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No festal coronal art thou;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy honey’d blossoms are but hives<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That guard the growth of wingèd lives.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw thee in the time of flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As sunshine spill’d upon the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or burning bushes all ablaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sacred fire; but went my ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I went my ways, and as I went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pluck’d kindlier blooms on either hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now of those blooms so passing sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None lives to stay my passing feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still thy lamp upon the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feeds on the autumn’s dying sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from thy midst comes murmuring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A music sweeter than in spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Barb’d blossoms of the guarded gorse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be mine to wear until I die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mine the wounds of love which still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear witness to his human will.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Emily Pfeiffer.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_LOST_LOVE" id="TO_A_LOST_LOVE"></a>TO A LOST LOVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> CANNOT look upon thy grave,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Though there the rose is sweet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better to hear the long wave wash<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These wastes about my feet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I take comfort? Dost thou live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A spirit, though afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a deep hush about thee, like<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stillness round a star?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, thou art cold! In that high sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art a thing apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Losing in saner happiness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This madness of the heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet, at times, thou still shalt feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A passing breath, a pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disturb’d, as though a door in heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had sped and closed again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou shalt shiver, while the hymns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The solemn hymns, shall cease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A moment half remember me:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then turn away in peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But oh! forevermore thy look,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy laugh, thy charm, thy tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sweet and wayward loveliness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear trivial things are gone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore I look not on thy grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though there the rose is sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But rather hear the loud wave wash<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These wastes about my feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Stephen Phillips.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PRINCE_OF_PAINTERS_COME_I_PRAY" id="PRINCE_OF_PAINTERS_COME_I_PRAY"></a>PRINCE OF PAINTERS, COME, I PRAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>RINCE of painters, come, I pray,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Paint my love, for, though away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King of craftsmen, you can well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Paint what I to thee can tell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First her hair you must indite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark, but soft as summer night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou no contrivance whence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make it breathe its frankincense?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rising from her rounded cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let thy pencil duly speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How below that purpling night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glows her forehead ivory-white.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mind you neither part nor join<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those sweet eyebrows’ easy line;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They must merge, you know, to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In separated unity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Painter draw, as lover bids,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the dark line of the lids;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Painter, now ’tis my desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make her glance from very fire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make it as Athene’s blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Cythera’s liquid too;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now to give her cheeks and nose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Milk must mingle with the rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips be like persuasion’s made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To call for kisses they persuade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for her delicious chin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er and under and within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round her soft neck’s Parian wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid fly the graces, one and all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the rest, enrobe my pet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her faint clear violet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a little truth must show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is more that lies below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold! thou hast her—that is she.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hush! she ’s going to speak to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Philpot.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_LAGOON_MESSAGE" id="A_LAGOON_MESSAGE"></a>A LAGOON MESSAGE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OT now, but later, when the road<br /></span> -<span class="ih">We tread together breaks apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When thou, my dearest, distant art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tedious days have swelled the load<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon my heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or haply after that, when I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Am sealed within an earthy bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Resting and unrememberèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This scene will speak and easily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The whole be said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some eve, when from his burning chair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sun below Fusina slips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the sable poplar tips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wave in the warm vermilion air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wind, the lips<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of the soft breeze with wayward touch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall tell thee all I longed to own;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thou, on lurid lakes alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wilt say: “Poor soul, he loved me much;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he is gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Percy C. Pinkerton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_CONQUEST" id="A_CONQUEST"></a>A CONQUEST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> FOUND him openly wearing her token;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I knew that her troth could never be broken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I laid my hand on the hilt of my sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He did the same, and he spoke no word;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He faced me with his villainy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He laughed and said, “She gave it me.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We searched for seconds, they soon were found;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They measured our swords; they measured the ground:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They held to the deadly work too fast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They thought to gain our place at last.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We fought in the sheen of a wintry wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fair white snow was red with his blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But his was the victory, for, as he died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He swore by the rood that he had not lied.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Walter Herries Pollock.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_DEVOUT_LOVER" id="THE_DEVOUT_LOVER"></a>THE DEVOUT LOVER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is not mine to sing the stately grace,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The great soul beaming in my lady’s face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To write no sounding odes to me is given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein her eyes outshine the stars in heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not mine in flowing melodies to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thousand beauties that I know so well;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not mine to serenade her ev’ry tress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sit and sigh my love in idleness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But mine it is to follow in her train,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do her behests in pleasure or in pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burn at her altar love’s sweet frankincense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And worship her in distant reverence.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Walter Herries Pollock.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BALLADE_OF_LOVERS" id="BALLADE_OF_LOVERS"></a>BALLADE OF LOVERS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR the man was she made by the Eden tree,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">To be decked in soft raiment and worn on his sleeve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be fondled so long as they both agree,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A thing to take, or a thing to leave.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But for her, let her live through one long summer eve—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just the stars, and the moon, and the man, and she—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her soul will escape her beyond reprieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, alas! the whole of her world is he.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-morrow brings plenty as lovesome, maybe;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she break when he handles her, why should he grieve?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is only one pearl in a pearl-crowded sea,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A thing to take, or a thing to leave.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she, though she knows he has kissed to deceive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And forsakes her, still only clings on at his knee—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When life has gone, what further loss can bereave?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, alas! the whole of her world is he.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the man was she made upon Eden lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To be helpmeet what time there is burden to heave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White-footed, to follow where he walks free,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A thing to take, or a thing to leave;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White-fingered, to weave and to interweave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her woof with his warp, and a tear two or three,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till clear his way out through her web he cleave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, alas! the whole of her world is he.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>ENVOI.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>ID he own her no more when he called her Eve,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Than a thing to take, or a thing to leave?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flower-filled plot that unlocks to his key—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, alas! the whole of her world is he.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">May Probyn.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_A_GARDEN" id="IN_A_GARDEN"></a>IN A GARDEN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE cowslip glowed, the tulip burned,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The grass was green as green could be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, as in sweet content we turned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the budding linden-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We saw the westering sunbeams shake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Large glory o’er the mountain lake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cushat cooed, the blackbird’s cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About the terrace garden rang;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still as we wooed, my love and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The throstle still enraptured sang,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still the waters danced with glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the budding linden-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tulips trembled still with flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cowslips gleamed along the walk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, dear one, when the last word came,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And silence only seemed to talk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We looked and found the lake was gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers dim, birds hushed, and one star shone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beloved! by many an up and down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er level lawns, unlevel ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through weeds and flowers, when birds had flown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And when birds sang, have passed the days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since our new dawn forbade the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lo! o’erhead Love’s star is bright.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Hardwick Drummond Rawnsley.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG_FOR_CANDLEMAS" id="A_SONG_FOR_CANDLEMAS"></a>A SONG FOR CANDLEMAS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE’s never a rose upon the bush,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And never a bud on any tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wood and field nor hint nor sign<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of one green thing for you of me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come in, come in, sweet love of mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let the bitter weather be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Coated with ice the garden wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The river reeds are stark and still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind goes plunging to the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And last week’s flakes the hollows fill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come in, come in, sweet love, to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let the year blow as it will.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Lizette Woodworth Reese.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_DREAM_OF_DIANA" id="A_DREAM_OF_DIANA"></a>A DREAM OF DIANA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N dream I saw Diana pass, Diana as of old,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Across the green wood radiantly, attired in green and gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With spear alert, with eyes afire, as they had seen the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gave its glances back again, with brightness of their own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No human maid is she, I thought, who there so lightly fares<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her sylvan empery, afar from our pale cares.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She passed, and left me to that thought, who felt the sadder then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That only once, and not again, she might be seen of men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though constantly, by lawn and wood, and hanging mountain-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My restless eye might dare to hunt the huntress in her pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without her all was lonely grown; I had no liking left<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For fern or foxglove bloom, of her bright grace bereft.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in that taking, in a bed of softest fern I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And found no joy of woodcraft left, the livelong summer day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When lo! at eve, a silvery horn, a questing hound, a cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swift, Diana came again, and sat her down thereby;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then I saw those radiant eyes were full of perfect rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And found beneath the goddess there the woman’s softer breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Ernest Rhys.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WHEN_SHE_COMES_HOME" id="WHEN_SHE_COMES_HOME"></a>WHEN SHE COMES HOME.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN she comes home again! A thousand ways<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I fashion, to myself, the tenderness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of my glad welcome. I shall tremble—yes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And touch her, as when first in the old days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine eyes, such was my faint heart’s sweet distress.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then silence, and the perfume of her dress:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The room will sway a little, and a haze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cloy eyesight—soul-sight, even—for a space:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tears—yes; and the ache here in the throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To know that I so ill deserve the place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Again is hidden in the old embrace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">James Whitcomb Riley.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="POPLAR_LEAVES" id="POPLAR_LEAVES"></a>POPLAR LEAVES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE wind blows down the dusty street;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And through my soul that grieves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It brings a sudden odour sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A smell of poplar leaves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O leaves that herald in the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O freshness young and pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my weary soul you bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vigour to endure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wood is near but out of sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where all the poplars grow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Straight up and tall and silver white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They quiver in a row.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love is out of sight, but near;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And through my soul that grieves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden memory wafts her here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As fresh as poplar leaves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">A. Mary F. Robinson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AFTER_DEATH" id="AFTER_DEATH"></a>AFTER DEATH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He leaned above me, thinking that I slept<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And could not hear him; but I heard him say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Poor child, poor child!” and as he turned away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hid my face, or take my hand in his,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He did not love me living; but once dead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He pitied me; and very sweet it is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To know he still is warm, though I am cold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Christina G. Rossetti.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SOMEWHERE_OR_OTHER" id="SOMEWHERE_OR_OTHER"></a>SOMEWHERE OR OTHER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>OMEWHERE or other there must surely be<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The face not seen, the voice not heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart that not yet—never yet—ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made answer to my word.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere or other, may be near or far;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Past land and sea, clean out of sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That tracks her night by night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere or other, may be far or near;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With just a wall, a hedge between;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With just the last leaves of the dying year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fallen on a turf grown green.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Christina G. Rossetti.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FIRST_LOVE_REMEMBERED" id="FIRST_LOVE_REMEMBERED"></a>FIRST LOVE REMEMBERED.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>EACE in her chamber, wheresoe’er<br /></span> -<span class="ih">It be, a holy place:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thought still brings my soul such grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As morning meadows wear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whether it still be small and light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A maid’s who dreams alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from her orchard-gate the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its ceiling showed at night:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or whether, in a shadow dense<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As nuptial hymns invoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Innocent maidenhood awoke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To married innocence:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then still the thanks unheard await<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The unconscious gift bequeathed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there my soul this hour has breathed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An air inviolate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Dante Gabriel Rossetti.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVE_ENTHRONED" id="LOVE_ENTHRONED"></a>LOVE ENTHRONED.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> MARKED all kindred Powers the heart finds fair:—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Truth, with awed lips; and Hope, with eyes upcast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Fame, whose loud wings fan the ashen Past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To signal-fires, Oblivion’s flight to scare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Youth, with still some single golden hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto his shoulder clinging, since the last<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Embrace wherein two sweet arms held him fast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Life, still wreathing flowers for Death to wear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love’s throne was not with these; but far above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All passionate wind of welcome and farewell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sat in breathless bowers they dream not of;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though Truth foreknow Love’s heart, and Hope foretell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Fame be for Love’s sake desirable,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Youth be dear, and Life be sweet to Love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Dante Gabriel Rossetti.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SUDDEN_LIGHT" id="SUDDEN_LIGHT"></a>SUDDEN LIGHT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">I</span> HAVE been here before,<br /></span> -<span class="ij">But when or how I cannot tell:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know the grass beyond the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The sweet keen smell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">You have been mine before,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How long ago I may not know:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But just when at that swallow’s soar<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your neck turned so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Has this been thus before?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And shall not thus time’s eddying flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still with our lives our loves restore<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In death’s despite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And day and night yield one delight once more?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Dante Gabriel Rossetti.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_PERFECT_DAY" id="A_PERFECT_DAY"></a>A PERFECT DAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>LAND air and leagues of immemorial blue;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">No subtlest hint of whitening rime or cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A revel of rich colours, hue on hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From radiant crimson to soft shades of gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A vagueness in the undulant hill line,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flutter of a bird’s south-soaring wing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Æolian harmonies in groves of pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And glad brook laughter like the mirth of spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sense of gracious calm afar and near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet a something wanting,—one fine ray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For consummation. Love, were you but here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then were the day indeed a perfect day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Clinton Scollard.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RUS_IN_URBE" id="RUS_IN_URBE"></a>RUS IN URBE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>OETS are singing, the whole world over,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Of May in melody, joys for June;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dusting their feet in the careless clover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And filling their hearts with the blackbird’s tune.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The “brown bright nightingale” strikes with pity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sensitive heart of a count or clown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But where is the song for our leafy city,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And where the rhymes for our lovely town?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh for the Thames and its rippling reaches,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where almond rushes and breezes sport!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take me a walk under Burnham Beeches;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give me a dinner at Hampton Court!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poets, be still, though your hearts I harden;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We’ve flowers by day, and have scents at dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The limes are in leaf in the cockney garden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lilacs blossom in Regent’s Park.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Come for a blow,” says a reckless fellow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burn’d red and brown by passionate sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Come to the downs, where the gorse is yellow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The season of kisses has just begun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come to the fields where bluebells shiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hear cuckoo’s carol, or plaint of dove:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come for a row on the silent river;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to the meadows and learn to love!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, I will come when this wealth is over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of softened colour and perfect tone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lilac’s better than fields of clover;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll come when blossoming May has flown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When dust and dirt of a trampled city<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have dragged the yellow laburnum down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll take my holiday,—more’s the pity,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turn my back upon London town.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Margaret! am I so wrong to love it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This misty town that your face shines through?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crown of blossom is waved above it;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But heart and life of the whirl—’tis you!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Margaret! pearl! I have sought and found you;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And though the paths of the wind are free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll follow the ways of the world around you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And build my nest on the nearest tree.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Clement Scott.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG1" id="SONG1"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE in my heart! oh, heart of me, heart of me!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Love is my tyrant, Love is supreme.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if he passeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is a phantom, and Life is a dream!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What if he changeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, can the waters be void of the wind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if he wendeth afar and apart from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What if he leave me to perish behind?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What if he passeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A flame i’ the dusk, a breath of Desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, my sweet Love is the heart and the soul of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I am the innermost heart of his fire!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love in my heart! oh, heart of me, heart of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is my tyrant, Love is supreme.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if he passeth, oh, heart of me, heart of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is a phantom, and Life is a dream!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Sharp.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_COMING_OF_LOVE" id="THE_COMING_OF_LOVE"></a>THE COMING OF LOVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N and out the osier beds, all along the shallows,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Lifts and laughs the soft south wind, or swoons among the grasses.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, ah! whose following feet are these that bend the tall marsh-mallows?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who laughs so low and sweet? Who sighs—and passes?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flower of my heart, my darling, why so slowly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lift’st thou thine eyes to mine, sweet wells of gladness?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too deep this new-found joy, and this new pain too holy;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or is there dread in thine heart of this divinest madness?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who sighs with longing there? who laughs alow—and passes?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose following feet are these that bend the tall marsh-mallows?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who comes upon the wind that stirs the heavy seeding grasses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In and out the osier beds, and hither through the shallows?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flower of my heart, my Dream, who whispers near so gladly?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose is the golden sunshine-net o’erspread for capture?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lift, lift thine eyes to mine, who love so wildly, madly—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those eyes of brave desire, deep wells o’er-brimmed with rapture.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Sharp.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RECALL" id="RECALL"></a>RECALL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Love me, or I am slain!” I cried, and meant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bitterly true each word. Nights, morns, slipped by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moons, circling suns, yet still alive am I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But shame to me, if my best time be spent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On this perverse, blind passion! Are we sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a planet just to mate and die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man no more than some pale butterfly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That yields his day to nature’s sole intent?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or is my life but Marguerite’s ox-eyed flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I should stand and pluck and fling away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One after one, the petal of each hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a love-dreamy girl, and only say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Loves me,” and “loves me not,” and “loves me”? Nay!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the man’s mind awake to manhood’s power.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edward Rowland Sill.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FANTASIA" id="FANTASIA"></a>FANTASIA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E’re all alone, we’re all alone!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The moon and stars are dead and gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night’s at deep, the wind asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou and I are all alone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What care have we though life there be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tumult and life are not for me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence and sleep about us creep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tumult and life are not for thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How late it is since such as this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had topped the height of breathing bliss!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now we keep an iron sleep,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that grave thou, and I in this!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Harriet Prescott Spofford.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ONLY_A_LEAF" id="ONLY_A_LEAF"></a>ONLY A LEAF.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the late leaves lit all the place,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">He left her with her ashen face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“We shall not meet!” he lightly cried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Good-bye, sweetheart, the world is wide.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though bright the sunshine on that day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the bare boughs around her lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She thought in blackened shadow stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The melancholy autumn wood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She bent, and lifted from the sod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A leaf whereon his foot had trod,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An idle leaf, but dead and sere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It held the heart’s blood of a year!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Harriet Prescott Spofford.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SONG_FROM_A_DRAMA" id="SONG_FROM_A_DRAMA"></a>SONG FROM A DRAMA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW not if moonlight or starlight<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Be soft on the land or the sea,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I catch but the near light, the far light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of eyes that are burning for me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scent of the night, of the roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May burden the air for thee, sweet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis only the breath of thy sighing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know, as I lie at thy feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The winds may be sobbing or singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their touch may be fervent or cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night-bells may toll or be ringing,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I care not, while thee I enfold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The feast may go on, and the music<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be scattered in ecstasy round,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy whisper, “I love thee! I love thee!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath flooded my soul with its sound.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I think not of time that is flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How short is the hour I have won,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How near is this living to dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How the shadow still follows the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is naught upon earth, no desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worth a thought, though ’twere had by a sign!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love thee! I love thee! bring nigher<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy spirit, thy kisses to mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edmund Clarence Stedman.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_VIOLET" id="THE_VIOLET"></a>THE VIOLET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>H! faint delicious spring-time violet,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Thine odour, like a key,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turns noiselessly in memory’s wards to let<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A thought of sorrow free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The breath of distant fields upon my brow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blows through that open door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sound of wind-borne bells more sweet and low<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sadder than of yore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It comes afar from that beloved place,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And that beloved hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Life hung ripening in Love’s golden grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like grapes above a bower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A spring goes singing through its reedy grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The lark sings o’er my head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drowned in the sky—oh, pass, ye visions, pass!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I would that I were dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why hast thou opened that forbidden door<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From which I ever flee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O vanished Joy! O Love that art no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let my vexed spirit be!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O violet! thy odour through my brain<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hath searched, and stung to grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This sunny day, as if a curse did stain<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy velvet leaf.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">W. W. Story.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_MY_LADY" id="TO_MY_LADY"></a>TO MY LADY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM out the past she comes to me,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">My Lady whom I loved long syne:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her face is very fair to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her gray eyes still with love-light shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I needs must think she still is mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once—in those old years long ago—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I waited at the hour of dawn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, with the first faint Eastern glow—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the sun his sword had drawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flushed its light the world upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Lady’s true love did I know!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now at eve she comes—I stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alone. Among the autumn trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her white robe glimmers, and the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wafts me a ghostly fragrance rare.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah me! No rose doth she now bear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But crimson poppies in her hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edward Fairbrother Strange.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AT_PARTING" id="AT_PARTING"></a>AT PARTING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR a day and night, Love sang to us, played with us,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Folded us round from the dark and the light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our hearts were fulfilled of the music he made with us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made with our hearts and our lips while he stayed with us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stayed in mid passage his pinions from flight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For a day and a night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From his foes that kept watch with his wings had he hidden us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Covered us close from the eyes that would smite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the feet that had tracked and the tongues that had chidden us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheltering in shade of the myrtles forbidden us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spirit and flesh growing one with delight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For a day and a night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But his wings will not rest, and his feet will not stay for us:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Morning is here in the joy of its might;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his breath has he sweetened a night and a day for us:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now let him pass, and the myrtles make way for us;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love can but last in us here at his height<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For a day and a night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AUGUST" id="AUGUST"></a>AUGUST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE were four apples on the bough,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Half gold, half red, that one might know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blood was ripe inside the core;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The colour of the leaves was more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like stems of yellow corn that grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all the gold June meadow’s floor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The warm smell of the fruit was good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feed on, and the split green wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all its bearded lips and stains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mosses in the clover veins,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most pleasant, if one lay or stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sunshine or in happy rains.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There were four apples on the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red-stained through gold, that all might see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun went warm from core to rind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The green leaves made the summer blind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that soft place they kept for me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With golden apples shut behind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The leaves caught gold across the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the bluest air begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thirsted for song to help the heat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I to feel my lady’s feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw close before the day were done:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both lips grew dry with dreams of it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the mute August afternoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They trembled to some undertune<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of music in the silver air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great pleasure was it to be there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till green turned duskier, and the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coloured the corn-sheaves like gold hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That August time it was delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch the red moon’s wane to white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt gray-seamed stems of apple-trees:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sense of heavy harmonies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grew on the growth of patient night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More sweet than shapen music is.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But some three hours before the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The air, still eager from the noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flagged after heat, not wholly dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the stem I leant my head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The colour soothed me like a tune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green leaves all round the gold and red.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I lay there till the warm smell grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More sharp, when flecks of yellow dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the round ripe leaves had blurred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rind with stain and wet; I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wind that blew and breathed and blew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too weak to alter its one word.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wet leaves next the gentle fruit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Felt smoother, and the brown tree root<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Felt the mould warmer: I, too, felt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(As water feels the slow gold melt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right through it when the day burns mute)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peace of time wherein love dwelt.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There were four apples on the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold stained on red that all might see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweet blood filled them to the core:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The colour of her hair is more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like stems of fair faint gold, that be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mown from the harvest’s middle floor.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BETWEEN_THE_SUNSET_AND_THE_SEA" id="BETWEEN_THE_SUNSET_AND_THE_SEA"></a>BETWEEN THE SUNSET AND THE SEA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ETWEEN the sunset and the sea<br /></span> -<span class="ih">My love laid hands and lips on me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sweet came sour, of day came night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of long desire came brief delight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, love, and what thing came of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the sea-downs and the sea?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between the sea-mark and the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joy grew to grief, grief grew to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love turned to tears, and tears to fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dead delight to new desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s talk, love’s touch there seemed to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the sea-sand and the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between the sundown and the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love watched one hour of love with me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then down the all-golden water-ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His feet flew after yesterdays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw them come and saw them flee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the sea-foam and the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between the sea-strand and the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love fell on sleep, sleep fell on me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first star saw twain turn to one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the moonrise and the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The next, that saw not love, saw me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the sea-banks and the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_OBLATION" id="THE_OBLATION"></a>THE OBLATION.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>SK nothing more of me, sweet:<br /></span> -<span class="ih">All I can give you I give.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heart of my heart, were it more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More would be laid at your feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love that should help you to live,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Song that should spur you to soar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All things were nothing to give,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once to have sense of you more,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Touch you and taste of you, sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think you and breathe you, and live,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swept of your wings as they soar,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Trodden by chance of your feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I that have love and no more<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give you but love of you, sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He that hath more let him give;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He that hath wings, let him soar;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine is the heart at your feet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here, that must love you to live.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ON_JUDGES_WALK" id="ON_JUDGES_WALK"></a>ON JUDGE’S WALK.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT night on Judge’s Walk the wind<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Was as the voice of doom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heath, a lake of darkness, lay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As silent as the tomb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The vast night brooded, white with stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the world’s unrest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The awfulness of silence ached<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like a strong heart repressed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night we walked beneath the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, beneath the trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was some word we could not say<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Half uttered in the breeze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night on Judge’s Walk we said<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No word of all we had to say;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now no word shall e’er be said<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before the Judgment Day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Arthur Symons.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ICH_HOR_ES_SOGAR_IM_TRAUM" id="ICH_HOR_ES_SOGAR_IM_TRAUM"></a>ICH HÖR’ ES SOGAR IM TRAUM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ING on, sing on: half dreaming still<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I hear you singing down the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the green wood, beside the rill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each to the other sing, sweet birds;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make music sweeter far than words;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drown my still soul with song, sweet birds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under each starbeam there was sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far down the river wandered deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods closed round it still and steep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One watch-dog from the lone farm bayed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waterfowl beneath the shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sedge and flowering reed were laid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The birds sang on, and slumber shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like silver clouds upon my head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I slept, nor stirred me in my bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into my room he seemed to glide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moonbeams through the window wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snowed in upon my white bedside.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He kissed my lips, he kissed my cheek;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not kiss him back nor speak:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feared the blissful sleep to break.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing louder, nightingales of May!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing, dash my golden dream away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing anthems to the orient day!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moonlight pales; the gray cock crows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A murmur in the tree top goes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep sheds her petals like a rose.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Addington Symonds.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OH_WHEN_WILL_IT_BE" id="OH_WHEN_WILL_IT_BE"></a>OH, WHEN WILL IT BE?</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>H, when will it be, oh, when will it be, oh, when<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That she shall be here, and the flute be here, and the wine be here? oh, then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips shall kiss the lips of the flute, and my lips shall kiss the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall drink music from her sweet lips, and she shall drink madness from mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Addington Symonds.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BALLADE_OF_THE_LADYES_OF_LONG_SYNE" id="BALLADE_OF_THE_LADYES_OF_LONG_SYNE"></a>BALLADE OF THE LADYES OF LONG SYNE.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">From the French of François Villon.</span></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>ELL me wher, in what contree, is<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Flora, the beautifulle Romaine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thais and Archipiadis,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wher are they now, those cosins twaine?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Echo, gretyng her love agein<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By banke of river and marge of mere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whos beaute was fre fro mortall stayne?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wher is the lerned Helowis,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For whom undon in celle did plaine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierre Abelard at Saint Denys?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For love’s reward he had this peine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where is the quene who did ordeine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Buridan shulde drift in fere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sowed in a sacke adoun the Saine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a>{257}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quene Blanche, fayre as the floure-de-lys,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who sang as swete as the meremaid strayne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alys too, Bertha, Bietris,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Hermengarde, who halt the Mayne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Joan, the good may of Lorraine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Rouen brent by Englyshe fere,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wher are they, Virgine soveraine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>ENVOY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>RINCE, for this sevennyght be not fain,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Nor this twelfmonthe to question wher<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They be, withouten this refraine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, wher are the snowes that fell last year?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a>{258}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Stephen Temple.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FATIMA" id="FATIMA"></a>FATIMA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">O sun, that from thy noonday height<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shudderest when I strain my sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throbbing thro’ all thy heat and light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo, falling from my constant mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo, parch’d and wither’d, deaf and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last night I wasted hateful hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the city’s eastern towers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thirsted for the brooks, the showers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I roll’d among the tender flowers:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I crush’d them on my breast, my mouth:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I looked athwart the burning drought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that long desert to the south.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last night, when some one spoke his name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From my swift blood that went and came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand little shafts of flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were shiver’d in my narrow frame.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Love, O fire! once he drew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With one long kiss my whole soul thro’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a>{259}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before he mounts the hill, I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He cometh quickly: from below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before him, striking on my brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In my dry brain my spirit soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faints like a dazzled morning moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wind sounds like a silver wire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from beyond the noon a fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is pour’d upon the hills, and nigher<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The skies stoop down in their desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, isled in sudden seas of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart, pierc’d thro’ with fierce delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bursts into blossom in his sight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My whole soul waiting silently,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All naked in a sultry sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Droops blinded with his shining eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I <span class="itlc">will</span> possess him or will die.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will grow round him in his place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grow, live, die looking on his face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Die, dying clasp’d in his embrace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>{260}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NOW_SLEEPS_THE_CRIMSON_PETAL" id="NOW_SLEEPS_THE_CRIMSON_PETAL"></a>NOW SLEEPS THE CRIMSON PETAL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">N</span>OW sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;<br /></span> -<span class="ij">Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy heart lies open unto me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slips into the bosom of the lake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my bosom and be lost in me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>{261}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_WINDOW_OR_THE_SONGS_OF_THE_WRENS" id="THE_WINDOW_OR_THE_SONGS_OF_THE_WRENS"></a>THE WINDOW; OR THE SONGS OF THE WRENS.<br /> -AT THE WINDOW.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">V</span>INE, vine and eglantine,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Clasp her window, trail and twine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose, rose and clematis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trail and twine and clasp and kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss, kiss; and make her a bower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All of flowers, and drop me a flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drop me a flower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vine, vine and eglantine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cannot a flower, a flower, be mine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose, rose and clematis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drop me a flower, a flower, to kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss, kiss—and out of her bower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All of flowers, a flower, a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dropt, a flower.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>{262}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="GONE" id="GONE"></a>GONE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gone till the end of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone, and the light gone with her and left me in shadow here!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gone—flitted away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taken the stars from the night and the sun from the day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone, and a cloud in my heart, and a storm in the air!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flown to the east or the west, flitted I know not where!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down in the south is a flash and a groan; she is there! she is there!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a>{263}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VALENTINE" id="VALENTINE"></a>VALENTINE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F thou canst make the frost be gone,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And fleet away the snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(And that thou canst, I trow);<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou canst make the spring to dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hawthorn to put her brav’ry on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Willow, her weeds of fine green lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say why thou dost not so—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Aye, aye!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say why<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou dost not so!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou canst chase the stormy rack,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bid the soft winds blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(And that thou canst, I trow);<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou canst call the thrushes back<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To give the groves the songs they lack,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wake the violet in thy track,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say why thou dost not so—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Aye, aye!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say why<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou dost not so!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>{264}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou canst make my winter spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With one word breathèd low<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(And that thou canst, I know);<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If in the closure of a ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou canst to me such treasure bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My state shall be above a king,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say why thou dost not so—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Aye, aye!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say why<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou dost not so!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>{265}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edith M. Thomas.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DREAM_TRYST" id="DREAM_TRYST"></a>DREAM TRYST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE breaths of kissing night and day<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Were mingled in the eastern heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throbbing with unheard melody<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shook Lyra all its star-chord seven:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When dusk shrunk cold, and light trod shy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dawn’s gray eyes were troubled gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And souls went palely up the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mine to Lucidé.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was no change in her sweet eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since last I saw those sweet eyes shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no change in her deep heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since last that deep heart knocked at mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes were clear, her eyes were Hope’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein did ever come and go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sparkle of the fountain-drops<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From her sweet soul below.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a>{266}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The chambers in the house of dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are fed with so divine an air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Time’s hoar wings grow young therein,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And they who walk there are most fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I joyed for me, I joyed for her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who with the Past meet girt about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where our last kiss still warms the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor can her eyes go out.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a>{267}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Francis Thompson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ATALANTA" id="ATALANTA"></a>ATALANTA.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN spring grows old, and sleepy winds<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Set from the south with odours sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see my love, in green, cool groves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Speed down dusk aisles on shining feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She throws a kiss and bids me run,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In whispers sweet as roses’ breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know I cannot win the race,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at the end, I know, is death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But joyfully I bare my limbs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Anoint me with the tropic breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feel through every sinew thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vigour of Hippomenes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A race of love! We all have run<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy happy course through groves of spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cared not, when at last we lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For life, or death, or anything!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a>{268}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Maurice Thompson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_THANKSGIVING" id="A_SONG_OF_THANKSGIVING"></a>A SONG OF THANKSGIVING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y love is the flaming sword, to fight through the world;<br /></span> -<span class="ihm">Thy love is the shield to ward,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the armour of the Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the banner of Heav’n unfurl’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let my voice ring out, and over the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through all the grief and strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a golden joy in a silver mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank God for Life!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let my voice swell out through the great abyss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the azure dome above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a chord of faith in the harp of bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank God for Love!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let my voice thrill out, beneath and above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The whole world through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O my Love and Life, O my Life and Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank God for you!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a>{269}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">James Thomson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DAY_AFTER_DAY_OF_THIS_AZURE_MAY" id="DAY_AFTER_DAY_OF_THIS_AZURE_MAY"></a>DAY AFTER DAY OF THIS AZURE MAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>AY after day of this azure May,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The blood of the spring has swelled in my veins;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night after night of broad moonlight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A mystical dream has dazzled my brains.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A seething might, a fierce delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blood of the spring is the wine of the world;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My veins run fire and thrill desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Every leaf of my heart’s red rose uncurled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sad, sweet calm, a tearful balm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The light of the moon is the trance of the world;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My brain is fraught with yearning thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the rose is pale, and its leaves are furled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, speed the day then, dear, dear May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hasten the night, I charge thee, O June!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the trance divine shall burn with the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the red rose unfurl all its fire to the moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a>{270}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">James Thomson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_SONG_OF_TRISTRAM" id="THE_SONG_OF_TRISTRAM"></a>THE SONG OF TRISTRAM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE star of love is trembling in the west,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Night hears the desolate sea with moan on moan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sigh for the storm, who on his mountain lone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smites his wild harp, and dreams of her wild breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am thy storm, Isolt, and thou my sea!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Isolt!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My passionate sea!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The storm to her wild breast, the passionate sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To his fierce arms: we to the rapturous leap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mated spirits mingling in love’s deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame to flame, I to thee and thou to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou to mine arms, Isolt, I to thy breast!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Isolt!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I to thy breast!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a>{271}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Todhunter.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AUBADE1" id="AUBADE1"></a>AUBADE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE lights are out in the street, and a cool wind swings<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Loose poplar plumes on the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in the gloom of the garden the first bird sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Curt, hurried steps go by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loud in the hush of the dawn past the linden screen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lost in a jar and a rattle of wheels unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond on the wide highway:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night lingers dusky and dim in the pear-tree boughs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hangs in the hollows of leaves, though the thrushes rouse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the glimmering lawn grows gray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yours, my heart knoweth, yours only the jewelled gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Splendours of opal and amber, the scent, the bloom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a>{272}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yours all, and your own demesne—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scent of the dark, of the dawning, of leaves and dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing that was but hath changed—’tis a world made new—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A lost world risen again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lamps are out in the street, and the air grows bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, lest the miracle fade in the broad, bare light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The new world wither away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear is your voice in my heart, and you call me—whence?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come—for I listen, I wait,—bid me rise, go hence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or ever the dawn turn day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a>{273}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Graham R. Tomson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOVE_THE_GUEST" id="LOVE_THE_GUEST"></a>LOVE, THE GUEST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DID not dream that Love would stay,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I deemed him but a passing guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here he lingers many a day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I said, “Young Love will flee with May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leave forlorn the hearth he blest;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream that Love would stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My envious neighbour mocks me, “Nay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love lies not long in any nest;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here he lingers many a day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though I did his will alway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gave him even of my best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream that Love would stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have no skill to bid him stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tripping tongue or cunning jest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here he lingers many a day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a>{274}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath his ivory feet I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale plumage of the ringdove’s breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream that Love would stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will Love be flown? I ofttimes say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Home turning for the noonday rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here he lingers many a day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His gold curls gleam, his lips are gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His eyes through tears smile loveliest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream that Love would stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sometimes sighs, when far away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The low red sun makes fair the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here he lingers many a day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thrice blest of all men am I! yea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although of all unworthiest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream that Love would stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here he lingers many a day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>{275}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Graham R. Tomson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_BLUSH_AT_FAREWELL" id="A_BLUSH_AT_FAREWELL"></a>A BLUSH AT FAREWELL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ER tears are all thine own! how blest thou art!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Thine, too, the blush which no reserve can bind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy farewell voice was as the stirring wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That floats the rose-bloom; thou hast won her heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear are the hopes it ushers to thy breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She speaks not—but she gives her silent bond;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou mayst trust it, asking nought beyond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The promise, which as yet no words attest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in her bosom sinks the conscious glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deep in thine! and I can well foresee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou shalt feel a lover’s jealousy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her brief absence, what a ruling power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bygone blush shall prove! until the hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of meeting, when thy next love-rose shall blow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>{276}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Charles Tennyson Turner.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_KISS_OF_BETROTHAL" id="THE_KISS_OF_BETROTHAL"></a>THE KISS OF BETROTHAL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN lovers’ lips from kissing disunite<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With sound as soft as mellow fruitage breaking,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They loathe to leave what was so sweet in taking,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fraught with breathless magical delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scent of flowers is long before it fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long dwells upon the gale the Vesper-tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far floats the wake the lightest skiff has made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The closest kiss when once imprest, is gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What marvel, then, that each so closely kisseth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet is the fourfold touch—the living seal—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What marvel then, with sorrow each dismisseth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This thrilling pledge of all they hope and feel?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While on their lingering steps the shadows steal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And each true heart beats as the other wisheth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a>{277}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Charles Tennyson Turner.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PARTING-GATE" id="THE_PARTING-GATE"></a>THE PARTING-GATE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N that old beech-walk, now bestrewn with mast,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And roaring loud—they linger’d long and late;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Harsh was the clang of the last homeward gate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That latch’d itself behind them, as they pass’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then kiss’d and parted. Soon her funeral knell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toll’d from a foreign clime; he did not talk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor weep, but shudder’d at that stern farewell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas the last gate in all their lovers’-walk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without the kiss beyond it! Was it good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To leave him thus, alone with his sad mood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that dear footpath, haunted by her smile?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where they had laugh’d and loiter’d, sat and stood?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone in life! alone in Moreham wood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all that sweet, forsaken, forest mile!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a>{278}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Charles Tennyson Turner.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IRISH_LOVE_SONG" id="IRISH_LOVE_SONG"></a>IRISH LOVE SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>OULD God I were the tender apple-blossom,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Floating and falling from the twisted bough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lie and faint within your silken bosom,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As that does now!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or would I were a little burnished apple<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your hair’s spun gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, would to God I were among the roses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lean to kiss you as you float between!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To touch you, Queen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A happy daisy in the garden path;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That so your silver foot might press me going,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Even unto death!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a>{279}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Katherine Tynan.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GOOD-NIGHT" id="GOOD-NIGHT"></a>GOOD-NIGHT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is over now, she is gone to rest;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I have clasped the hands on the quiet breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw back the curtain, let in the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will never shrink if it be too bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We were two in here but an hour gone by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No streak was then in the midnight sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now I am one to watch the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come glimmering up from the far-away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What will he say when he comes in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waked by the city’s morning din,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hoping to find and fearing to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sorrow he left but an hour ago?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What will he say who has watched so long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he shall find who has come and gone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come a watcher that will not bide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s morning or noon or eventide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a>{280}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He thought to kiss her by morning gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But God has thought to take her away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What will he say? God knows, not I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Good-night,” he said, but never “good-bye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>{281}</span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">C. C. Fraser Tytler.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="I_KNOW_TIS_LATE_BUT_LET_ME_STAY" id="I_KNOW_TIS_LATE_BUT_LET_ME_STAY"></a>I KNOW ’TIS LATE, BUT LET ME STAY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW ’tis late, but let me stay,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">For night is tenderer than day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet love, dear love, I cannot go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds are in the grove asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The katydids shrill concert keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woodbine breathes a fragrance rare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To please the dewy, languid air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fireflies twinkle in the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The river shines in moonlight pale:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See yon bright star! choose it for thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And call its near companion mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yon air-spun lace above the moon,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twill veil her radiant beauty soon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look! a meteor’s dreamy light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streams mystic through the solemn night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, life glides swift, like that still fire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How soon our gleams of joy expire!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who can be sure the present kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is not his last? Make all of this.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a>{282}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know ’tis late, dear love, I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It cannot be the stealthy day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That turns the orient darkness gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heardst thou? I thought or feared I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vague twitters of some wakeful bird.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, ’twas but summer in her sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low murmuring from the leafy deep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fantastic mist obscurely fills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hollows of Kentucky hills.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wings of night are swift indeed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why makes the jealous morn such speed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This rose thou wear’st may I not take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For passionate remembrance’ sake?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Press with thy lips its crimson heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, blushing rose, we must depart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rose cannot return a kiss—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pay its due with this, and this.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars grow faint, they soon will die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But love fades not nor fails. Good-bye!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unhappy joy—delicious pain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We part in love, we meet again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good-bye! the morning dawns—I go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a>{283}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William H. Venable.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CASHEL_OF_MUNSTER" id="CASHEL_OF_MUNSTER"></a>CASHEL OF MUNSTER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WOULD wed you, dear, without gold or gear, or counted kine;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">My wealth you’ll be, would your friends agree, and you be mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My grief, my gloom! that you do not come, my heart’s dear hoard!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Cashel fair, though our couch were there but a soft deal board.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, come, my bride, o’er the wild hill-side to the valley low!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A downy bed for my love I’ll spread where waters flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we shall stray where streamlets play, the groves among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where echo tells to the listening dells the blackbird’s song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love tender, true, I gave to you, and secret sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In hope to see upon you and me one hour arise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>{284}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the priest’s blest voice would bind my choice and the ring’s strict tie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If wife you be, love, to one but me, love, in grief I’ll die!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A neck of white has my heart’s delight, and breast like snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flowing hair whose ringlets fair to the green grass flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! that I did not early die, before the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That saw me here, from my bosom’s dear, far, far away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a>{285}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Edward Walsh.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DAFFODILS" id="DAFFODILS"></a>DAFFODILS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> QUESTION with the amber daffodils,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Sheeting the floors of April, how she fares;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where king-cup buds gleam out between the rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And celandine in wide gold beadlets glares.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By pastured brows and swelling hedgerow bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From crumpled leaves the primrose bunches slip,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hot face roll’d in their faint-scented flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dream her rich cheek rests against my lip.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All weird sensations of the fervent prime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are like great harmonies, whose touch can move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glow of gracious impulse: thought and time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Renew my love with life, my life with love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When this old world new-born puts glories on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot think she never will be won.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>{286}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Leicester Warren.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AVE_ATQUE_VALE" id="AVE_ATQUE_VALE"></a>AVE ATQUE VALE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AREWELL my Youth! for now we needs must part,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">For here the paths divide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here hand from hand must sever, heart from heart,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divergence deep and wide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’ll wear no withered roses for my sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I go mourning for you all day long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finding no magic more in bower and brake,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No melody in song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gray Eld must travel in my company<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seal this severance more fast and sure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A joyless fellowship, i’ faith, ’twill be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet must we fare together, I and he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I shall tread the footpath way no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when a blackbird pipes among the boughs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On some dim iridescent day in spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I may dream you are remembering<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our ancient vows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a>{287}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or when some joy foregone, some fate forsworn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looks through the dark eyes of the violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may recross the set, forbidden bourne, I may forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our long, long parting for a little while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dream of the golden splendours of your smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dream you remember yet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a>{288}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Rosamund Marriot Watson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EPITAPH" id="EPITAPH"></a>EPITAPH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OW lay thee down to sleep, and dream of me;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Though thou art dead and I am living yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though cool thy couch and sweet thy slumbers be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dream—do not quite forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep all the autumn, all the winter long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With never a painted shadow from the past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To haunt thee; only, when the blackbird’s song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wakens the woods at last,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the young shoots grow lusty overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here, where the spring sun smiles, the spring wind grieves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When budding violets close above thee spread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their small heart-shapen leaves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a>{289}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pass, O Belovèd, to dreams from slumber deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Recount the store that mellowing time endears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tread, through the measureless mazes of thy sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our old unchangeful years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lie still and listen—while thy sheltering tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whispers of suns that rose, of suns that set—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For far-off echoes of the spring and me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dream—do not quite forget.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a>{290}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Rosamund Marriot Watson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_GOLDEN_HOUR" id="A_GOLDEN_HOUR"></a>A GOLDEN HOUR.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> BECKONING spirit of gladness seemed afloat,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That lightly danced in laughing air before us:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth was all in tune, and you a note<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Nature’s happy chorus.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leafless boughs across the lane were knitting:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ghost of some forgotten spring, we said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er winter’s world comes flitting.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or was it spring herself, that, gone astray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the alien frontier chose to tarry?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or but some bold outrider of the May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some April emissary?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The apparition faded on the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Capricious and incalculable comer.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt thou too pass, and leave my chill days bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fall’n my phantom summer?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a>{291}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Watson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AND_THESE_ARE_THESE_INDEED_THE_END" id="AND_THESE_ARE_THESE_INDEED_THE_END"></a>AND THESE—ARE THESE INDEED THE END?</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND these—are these indeed the end,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">This grinning skull, this heavy loam?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do all green ways whereby we wend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lead but to yon ignoble home?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, well! Thine eyes invite to bliss;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy lips are hives of summer still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ask not other worlds while this<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Proffers me all the sweets I will.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a>{292}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Watson.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_DREAM" id="A_DREAM"></a>A DREAM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ENEATH the loveliest dream there coils a fear:<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Last night came she whose eyes are memories now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her far-off gaze seemed all-forgetful how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love dimmed them once, so calm they shone, and clear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Sorrow (I said) hath made me old, my dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis I, indeed, but grief doth change the brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A love like mine a seraph’s neck might bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vigils like mine would blanch an angel’s hair.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! then I saw, I saw the sweet lips move!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I saw the love-mists thickening in her eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard wild wordless melodies of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like murmur of dreaming brooks in Paradise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when upon my neck she fell, my dove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I knew her hair, though heavy of amaranth-spice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a>{293}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Theodore Watts.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FIRST_KISS" id="THE_FIRST_KISS"></a>THE FIRST KISS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F only in dreams may man be fully blest,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Is heav’n a dream? Is she I claspt a dream?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or stood she here even now where dewdrops gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And miles of furze shine golden down the West?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to clasp her still,—still on my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her bosom beats; I see the blue eyes beam:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I think she kissed these lips, for now they seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce mine, so hallow’d of the lips they press’d!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yon thicket’s breath—can that be eglantine?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those birds—can they be morning’s choristers?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can this be earth? Can these be banks of furze?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like burning bushes fired of God they shine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to know them, though this body of mine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pass’d into spirit at the touch of hers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a>{294}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Theodore Watts.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SUFFICIENCY" id="SUFFICIENCY"></a>SUFFICIENCY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> LITTLE love, of Heaven a little share,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And then we go—what matters it, since where,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or when, or how, none may aforetime know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor if Death cometh soon, or lingering slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Send on ahead his herald of Despair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On this gray life Love lights with golden glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Refracted from The Source, his bright wings throw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its glory on us, if Fate grant our prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">A little love!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A little; ’tis as much as we can bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Love is compassed with such magic air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who breathes it fully dies; and knowing so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Gods all wisely but a taste bestow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For little lives; a little while they spare<br /></span> -<span class="i10">A little love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a>{295}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Gleeson White.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BENEDICITE" id="BENEDICITE"></a>BENEDICITE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>OD’s love and peace be with thee, where<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Soe’er this soft autumnal air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whether through city casements comes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, out among the woodland blooms,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It freshens o’er thy thoughtful face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Imparting, in its glad embrace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty to beauty, grace to grace!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair Nature’s book together read,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old wood-paths that knew our tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maple shadows overhead,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The hills we climbed, the river seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By gleams along its deep ravine,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All keep thy memory fresh and green.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a>{296}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where’er I look, where’er I stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy thought goes with me on my way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hence the prayer I breathe to-day;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er lapse of time and change of scene,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weary waste which lies between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thyself and me, my heart I lean.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou lack’st not Friendship’s spell-word, nor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The half-unconscious power to draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All hearts to thine by Love’s sweet law.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With these good gifts of God is cast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hold the blessed angels fast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If, then, a fervent wish for thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gracious heavens will heed from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What should, dear heart, its burden be?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sighing of a shaken reed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What can I more than meekly plead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The greatness of our common need?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a>{297}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God’s love,—unchanging, pure, and true,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Paraclete white-shining through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His peace,—the fall of Hermon’s dew!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With such a prayer, on this sweet day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thou mayst hear and I may say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I greet thee, dearest, far away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a>{298}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">John Greenleaf Whittier.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MY_VIOLET" id="MY_VIOLET"></a>MY VIOLET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN violets blue begin to blow<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Among the mosses fresh and green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That grow the woodbine roots between,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I take my Violet out, and, oh!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those cunning violets seem to know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sweeter than themselves is nigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They greet her with a beaming eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brighten where her footsteps go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When summer glories light the glade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gloss of green and gleam of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sunny sheens in wood and wold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She loves to linger in the shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And such sweet light surrounds the maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, somehow, it is fairer far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where she and those dim shadows are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than where the sunbeams are displayed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When every tree relinquisheth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its garb of green for sombre brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the leaves are falling down,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a>{299}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">While breezes blow with angry breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With gentle pitying voice she saith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Poor leaves! I wish you would not die;”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at the sound they peaceful lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wear a pleasant calm in death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When winter frosts hold land and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And barren want and bleaker wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leave every thought of good behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I look upon my love, and she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thrall of winter sets me free;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with a sense of perfect rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I lay my head upon her breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And twenty summers shine for me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>{300}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">J. T. Burton Wollaston.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ASLEEP" id="ASLEEP"></a>ASLEEP.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>IDS closed and pale, with parted lips she lay;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Black on white pillows spread her hair unbound.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awake, I watched her sleeping face, and found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its beauty perfect in the breaking day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, then I knew that Love had passed away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! though with the entering sun that crowned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With light the beauty that mine arms enwound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came too the morning music of the bay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wept that Love had been and was no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That never shower nor sunlight should restore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love that gave her life and heart to me;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While radiant in the outburst of the dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh as the wind that swept the mountain lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green April wantoned on the noisy sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a>{301}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Theodore Wratislaw.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SWIMMING_SONG" id="SWIMMING_SONG"></a>SWIMMING SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE broad green rollers lift and glide<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Beneath our hearts as, side by side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We breast them blithely, blithely swim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toward the far horizon’s rim.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The murmur of the land recedes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The land of grief that aches and needs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We only as we fall and rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink deep the splendour of the skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O far blue heaven above our head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O near green sea about us spread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What joy so full, since time began,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could earth, our mother, give to man?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your bright face through the water peers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughs. “What need have men for tears?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We say. The land is far and dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world is summer’s, and we swim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>{302}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your bright face peers and laughs. The sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Same joy fulfils us, hands and feet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The same sea’s salt wet lips kiss ours:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We feel the same enraptured hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out yonder! where our distant home<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beckons us from the crests of foam!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out yonder through the roller’s mirth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What part was ever ours with earth?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your white limbs flash, your red lips gleam:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love seems life’s best and holiest dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought comes between us here, and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could wish not otherwise to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With sea beneath us, heaven above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life holds but laughter, joy, and love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No trammels bind us now, and we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are freer than the birds are free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your face seems sweeter here; your hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wet from the sea’s salt lips, more fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your limbs that move and gleam and shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hellenic, pagan, half divine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I should catch you now, make fast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your hands with mine, about you cast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My limbs, and through the untroubled waves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw you down to the sea’s deep graves!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a>{303}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, sweet! God’s gift is good enough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s gift of freedom, life, and love—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though but for this brief hour are we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone upon the eternal sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a>{304}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Theodore Wratislaw.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PEACE_OF_THE_ROSE" id="THE_PEACE_OF_THE_ROSE"></a>THE PEACE OF THE ROSE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F Michael, leader of God’s host,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When Heaven and Hell are met,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looked down on you from Heaven’s door-post,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He would his deeds forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Brooding no more upon God’s wars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In his Divine homestead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He would go weave out of the stars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A chaplet for your head;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all folk seeing him bow down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And white stars tell your praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would come at last to God’s great town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Led on by gentle ways;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And God would bid his warfare cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saying all things were well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And softly make a rosy peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A peace of Heaven and Hell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>{305}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">W. B. Yeats.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_BRIDAL_PAIR" id="THE_BRIDAL_PAIR"></a>THE BRIDAL PAIR.</h2> - -<h3>HE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOUGH the roving bee as lightly<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Sip the sweets of thyme and clover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the moon of May as whitely<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silver all the greensward over,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet, beneath the trysting tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That hath been which shall not be!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>SHE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Drip the vials ne’er so sweetly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the honey-dew of pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trip the dancers ne’er so featly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the old remembered measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet, the lighted lanthorn round,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What is lost shall not be found!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a>{306}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Young.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TRIFLERS" id="THE_TRIFLERS"></a>THE TRIFLERS.</h2> - -<h3>HE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ECAUSE thou wast cold and proud,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And as one alone in the crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And because of thy wilful and wayward look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought, as I saw thee above my book,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I will prove if her heart be flesh or stone;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in seeking thine, I have found my own.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>SHE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Because thou wast proud and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And because of the story told<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That never had woman a smile from thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought as I glanc’d, “If he frown on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, be it so! but his peace shall atone;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in troubling thine, I have lost my own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a>{307}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">William Young.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AT_THY_GRAVE" id="AT_THY_GRAVE"></a>AT THY GRAVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>AVES the soft grass at my feet;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Dost thou feel me near thee, sweet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the earth upon thy face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds thee close from my embrace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet my spirit thine can reach,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Needs betwixt us twain no speech,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the same soul lives in each.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now I meet no tender eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking mine in soft surmise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At some broken utterance faint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smile quick brightening, sigh half spent;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet in some sweet hours gone by,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No responding eye to eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Needed we for sympathy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love, I seem to see thee stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent in a shadowy land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a look upon thy face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if even in that dull place<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>{308}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Distant voices smote thine ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Memories of vanished years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or faint echoes of those tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I would not have it thus;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then would be most piteous<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our divided lives, if thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An imperfect bliss should know;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet my suffering, if to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death has brought the faculty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of entire felicity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rather would I weep in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou canst not share my pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deem that Lethean waters roll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softly o’er thy separate soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know that a divided bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes thee careless of my kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than that thou shouldst feel distress.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hush! I hear a low, sweet sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As of music stealing round;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forms thy hand the thrilling chords<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into more than spoken words?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! ’tis but the gathering breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whispering to the budding trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the song of early bees.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a>{309}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love! where art thou? Canst thou not<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear me, or is all forgot?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seest thou not these burning tears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can my words not reach thine ears?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or betwixt my soul and thine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has some mystery divine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sealed a separating line?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it thus, then, after death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old things none remembereth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the spirit henceforth clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the life it gathered here?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will our noblest longings seem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like some disremembered dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the after world’s full beam?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! the rainy wind blows loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scuds above the hurrying cloud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hushed is all the song of bees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Angry murmurs of the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Herald tempests. Silent yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleepest thou—nor fear nor fret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Troubles thee. Can I forget?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a>{310}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LO_IN_A_DREAM_LOVE_CAME_TO_ME" id="LO_IN_A_DREAM_LOVE_CAME_TO_ME"></a>LO! IN A DREAM LOVE CAME TO ME.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>O! in a dream Love came to me and cried:<br /></span> -<span class="ih">“The summer dawn creeps over land and sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden fields are ripe for harvest-tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the grape-gatherers climb the mountain-side;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The harvest joy is come; I wait for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arise, come down, and follow, follow me.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I arose, went down, and followed him.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The reaper’s song went ringing through the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below, the morning mists grew pale and dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the mountain ridge the sun’s bright rim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rose swiftly, and the glorious dawn was there.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I followed, followed Love, I knew not where.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a>{311}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through orange groves and orchard ways we went;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cool fresh dew lay deep on grass and tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above our heads the laden boughs were bent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With weight of ripening fruit; the faint sweet scent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of fragrant myrtles drifted up to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blindly, O Love, blindly I followed thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Love, the morning shadows passed away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From off the broad fair fields of waving wheat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I followed thee, till in the full noonday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weary women in the vineyards lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tall field flowers drooped fading in the heat:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I followed thee with bruised and bleeding feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the long white road the fierce sun shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And on the distant town and wide waste plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Love, I blindly, blindly followed on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor knew how sharp the way my feet had gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor knew I aught of shame or loss or pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor knew I all my labour was in vain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a>{312}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun sank down in silence o’er the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heavy shadows gathered deep and black;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the lonely waste of reeds and sand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I followed Love: I could not touch his hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor see his hidden face, nor turn me back,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor find again the far-off mountain-track.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blindly, O Love! blindly I followed thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The summer night lay on the silent plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the sleeping city and the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sound of rippling waves came up to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Love! the dawn drew near; far off again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gray light gathered where the night had lain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On through the quiet street Love passed, and cried:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“The summer dawn creeps over land and sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet is the summer and the harvest-tide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awake, arise, Love waits for thee, his Bride.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she arose and followed, followed thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O traitor Love! who hast forsaken me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a>{313}</span><br /></span> -<span class="iauth"><span class="smcap">Fraser’s Magazine.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VALE" id="VALE"></a><span class="itlc">VALE.</span></h2> - -<div class="poetryitlc"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Warbleth the bird of Love his golden song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And many hearken to his magic strain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In joyous major now he carols strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In minors low he croons his soft refrain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So fair his lay of Love’s fond empery,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One scarce may mark the quaver of his sigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or note amid his seeming ecstasy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dream that fades, the hopes that shatter’d lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But most he sings for Youth’s enraptured ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When hope beats fast and buds are bourgeoning,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Time flies,” he trills, “clasp close the fleeting year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere winter cometh, and sweet Love take wing!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a>{315}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>{314}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Adcock, A. St. J.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Since Yesterday</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Chambers’ Journal</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Aldrich, Anne Reeve</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> An Awakening</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Rose of Flame</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Love, the Destroyer</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Aldrich, Thomas Bailey</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Sweetheart, Sigh no More</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Wyndham Towers</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Faded Violet</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Song of Love</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love lies Bleeding</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> At thy Grave.</td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Et Melle et Felle</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love in a Mist</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Lo! in a Dream Love came to Me</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Fraser’s Magazine</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Lonely Landscape</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love lies Bleeding</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Outcast</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Arnold, Sir Edwin</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Light of Asia</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Arnold, Matthew</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Calais Sands</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Ashe, Thomas</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Phantoms</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Guest </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Secret</td> -<td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a>{316}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Austin, Alfred</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> If Love could Last</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Garden that I Love</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Barlow, George</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Journey</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Song Spray</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> If only Thou art True</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">From Dawn to Sunset</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Ecstasy of the Hair</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Life’s Love</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Beeching, H. C.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Night Watches</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love’s Looking-Glass</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Bennett, John</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> In a Rose Garden</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Chap Book</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Blind, Mathilde</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> I charge you, O Winds of the West</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Love Trilogy</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love in Exile</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Bourdillon, F. W.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Cæli</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Ailes d’Alouette</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Love in the Heart</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Bridges, Robert</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> I will not let Thee go</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Shorter Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Long are the Hours</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Browning, Robert</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Apparitions</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Porphyria’s Lover </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Bunner, H. C.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Robin’s Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Airs from Arcady</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Hour of Shadows</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Carman, Bliss</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Carnations in Winter</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Low Tide on Grand Pré</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Eavesdropper</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Carpenter, Henry Bernard</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Impossible She</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Poet’s Last Songs</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Cawein, Madison</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Dream Shape</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Undertones</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Unrequited</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Moods and Memories</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a>{317}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Clarke, Herbert E.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> In the Wood</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs of Exile</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Collier, Thomas Stevens</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> At Love’s Gate</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Song Spray</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Collins, Mortimer</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Birds and Lovers</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Selections from the Poetical Works</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Dawn</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Coonley, Lydia Avery</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Love’s Power</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Under the Pines, and Other Verses</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Crane, Walter</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Last Night my Lady talked with Me</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Renascence</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Love’s Arrows </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Curwen, Harry</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Love Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">French Love Songs, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Custance, Olive</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Parting Hour.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Dobson, Austin</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Sundial</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Old World Idylls, and Other Verses</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Ellwanger, George H.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Spring Song.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Ellwanger, W. D.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> To Jessie’s Dancing Feet</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Century</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Gale, Norman R.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Love Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Violets</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> A Song </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Garnett, Richard</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Nocturne</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Violets </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Gosse, Edmund William</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Year</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">On Viol and Flute</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> I’ve kissed Thee, Sweetheart</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Firdausi in Exile, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Gray, John</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Complaint</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Silverpoints</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Heart’s Demesne</td> -<td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a>{318}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Greene, G. A.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> In the Evening</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Italian Lyrists of To-day</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> When the Leaves Fall</td> -<td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span> -<span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Greenwell, Dora</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Qui sait aimer, sait mourir</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Gulston, A. Stepney</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Metempsychosis</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hall, Gertrude</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> O Knight, if Thou a Lady hast</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Verses</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hall, William C.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> At Last</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs in a Minor Key</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hankin, Mary L.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Old is Better</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Year by Year</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Henley, W. E.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Ballade of Midsummer Days and Nights</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Book of Verses</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Oh, gather me the Rose</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hickey, Emily H.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Her Dream</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lyrics and Verse Tales</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hildreth, Charles Lotin</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Masque of Death, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Tryst</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hinshelwood, A. Ernest</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> By one Rapt Day</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Through Starlight to Dawn</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Dilemma</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Horne, Herbert P.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Measure</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Diversi Colores</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Hunt, Helen</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Two Truths</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Verses</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Image, Selwyn</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Prayer</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems and Carols</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Jenner, Henry</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A June Storm</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Spectator</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a>{319}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Kingsley, Charles</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Dolcino to Margaret</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Lampman, Archibald</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Ballade of Waiting</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Among the Millet and Other Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> A Forecast</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Lang, Andrew</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> An Old Tune</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Ballades and Verses Vain</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Good-bye</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Grass of Parnassus</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Metempsychosis</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Ballades and Lyrics of Old France</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Le Gallienne, Richard</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Ballade of Old Sweethearts</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">My Ladies’ Sonnets</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Levy, Amy</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> In the Mile End Road</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A London Plane Tree, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Linton, W. J.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Love Afraid</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems and Translations</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Locker, Frederick</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> To my Mistress</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">London Lyrics</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> It is not always May</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poetical Works</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Lowell, James Russell</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Auf Wiedersehen</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Lyall, Sir Alfred</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Sequel to “My Queen”</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Verses written in India</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Lytton, Robert, Lord</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> If...?</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Marah</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Omens and Oracles</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">McCarthy, Justin Huntly</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Garden of Memory</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Harlequinade</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Macdonald, George</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> If I were a Monk and thou wert a Nun</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Mackail, J. W.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Ballade of Colours</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love’s Looking-Glass</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a>{320}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Mackay, Eric</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> My Amazon</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love Letters of a Violinist</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Marston, Philip Bourke</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Changed Love</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Wind Voices</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Summer’s Return</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Song-Tide, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Marston, Westland</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Mine</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Selected Dramatic Work and Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Marzials, Theo.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Aubade</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Gallery of Pigeons, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Phial and the Philtre</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Massey, Gerald</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Not I, Sweet Soul, not I</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love Lyrics</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Meredith, George</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> At Dinner she is Hostess</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Modern Love</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Love within the Lover’s Breast.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Monkhouse, Cosmo</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Dead March</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Corn and Poppies</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Morris, Lewis</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Fair Star that on the Shoulder of yon Hill</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Gwen</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Thy Shadow, O Tardy Night </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Morris, William</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The First Lyric</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love is Enough</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Concluding Lyric</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Moulton, Louise Chandler</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Beside a Bier</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">In the Garden of Dreams</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Hereafter</td> -<td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span> <span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Murray, George</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Fortunio’s Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Verses and Versions</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Nesbit, E.</span> (<span class="smcap">Mrs. Hubert Bland</span>):</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Splendide Mendax</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lays and Legends, Second Series</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Kiss</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Leaves of Life</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Mill</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lays and Legends, Second Series</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Nichols, J. B. B.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Pastoral</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Love in Idleness</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Vigilate Itaque </td> -<td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span> -<span class="ditto">“</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a>{321}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Noble, James Ashcroft</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Horizon</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Verses of a Prose Writer</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">O’Connor, Joseph</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Shadows</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">O’Shaughnessy, Arthur</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Farewell</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Music and Moonlight</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Supreme Summer</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Parker, Gilbert</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> As One would stand who saw a Sudden Light</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Lover’s Diary</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Patmore, Coventry</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Departure</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Unknown Eros</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Payne, John</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Cadences</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs of Life and Death</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Chant Royal of the God of Love</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">New Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> False Spring</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs of Life and Death</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Perry, Nora</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> In June</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">After the Ball, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Pfeiffer, Emily</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Song of Winter.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Phillips, Stephen</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> To a Lost Love</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Primavera</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Philpot, William</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Prince of Painters, come, I pray.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Pinkerton, Percy C.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Lagoon Message</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Galeazzo, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Pollock, Walter Herries</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Conquest</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">New and Old</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Devout Lover</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Probyn, May</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Ballade of Lovers</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Ballade of the Road, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Rawnsley, Hardwick Drummond</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> In a Garden</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems, Ballads, and Bucolics</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a>{322}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Reese, Lizette Woodworth</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Song for Candlemas</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Handful of Lavender</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Rhys, Ernest</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Dream of Diana</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A London Rose, and Other Rhymes</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Riley, James Whitcomb</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> When She comes Home</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Old-Fashioned Roses</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Robinson, A. Mary F.</span> (<span class="smcap">Madame James Darmesteter</span>):</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Poplar Leaves</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lyrics</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Rossetti, Christina G.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> After Death</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Somewhere or Other</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Rossetti, Dante Gabriel</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> First Love Remembered</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The House of Life</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Love Enthroned</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Sudden Light</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Scollard, Clinton</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Perfect Day</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Hills of Song</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Scott, Clement</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Rus in Urbe</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lays and Lyrics</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Sharp, William</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Song.</td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Coming of Love</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Pagan Review</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Sill, Edward Rowland</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Recall</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Spofford, Harriet Prescott</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Fantasia</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Only a Leaf</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Stedman, Edmund Clarence</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Song from a Drama</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Story, W. W.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Violet</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Strange, Edward Fairbrother</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> To my Lady</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Palissy in Prison, and Other Verses</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a>{323}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Swinburne, Algernon Charles</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> At Parting</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems and Ballads, Second Series</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> August</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Laus Veneris</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Between the Sunset and the Sea</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Chastelard</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Oblation</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs before Sunrise</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Symons, Arthur</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> On Judge’s Walk</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Silhouettes</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Symonds, John Addington</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Ich hör’ es sogar im Traum</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">New and Old</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Oh, when will it be?</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Spirit Lamp</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Temple, Stephen</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Ballade of the Ladyes of Long Syne.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Tennyson, Alfred, Lord</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Fatima</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Now sleeps the Crimson Petal </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Window; or the Songs of the Wrens </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Thomas, Edith M.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Valentine</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lyrics and Sonnets</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Thompson, Francis</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Dream Tryst</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Thompson, Maurice</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Atalanta</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs of Fair Weather</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Thomson, James</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Song of Thanksgiving</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Sunday up the River</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Day after Day of this Azure May</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Sunday at Hampstead</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Todhunter, John</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Song of Tristram</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Second Book of the Rhymers’ Club</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Tomson, Graham R.</span> (<span class="smcap">Rosamund Marriott Watson</span>):</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Aubade</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">A Summer Night, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Love the Guest</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Bird Bride</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Turner, Charles Tennyson</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Blush at Farewell</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Collected Sonnets</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Kiss of Betrothal</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Parting-Gate </td><td class="rt"> -<span class="ditto">“</span> -<span class="ditto">“</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a>{324}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Tynan, Katherine</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Irish Love Song</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Irish Love Songs</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Tytler, C. C. Fraser</span> (<span class="smcap">Mrs. Edward Liddell</span>):</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Good-Night</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Songs in Minor Keys</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Venable, William H.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> I know ’tis Late, but let Me stay</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Melodies of the Heart</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Walsh, Edward</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Cashel of Munster</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Irish Love Songs</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Warren, John Leicester</span> (<span class="smcap">Lord de Tabley</span>):</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Daffodils</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Watson, Rosamund Marriott</span> (<span class="smcap">Graham R. Tomson</span>):</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Ave atque Vale</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Vespertilia, and Other Verses</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Epitaph</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Watson, William</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> A Golden Hour</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Lachrymæ Musarum, and Other Poems</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> And These—are These indeed the End?</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Watts, Theodore</span>:</td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> A Dream</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Aylwin</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The First Kiss</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Sonnets</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">White, Gleeson</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Sufficiency.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Whittier, John Greenleaf</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Benedicite</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Poems</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Wollaston, J. T. Burton</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> My Violet</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Golden Hours</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Wratislaw, Theodore</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> Asleep</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Orchids</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> Swimming Song </td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Yeats, W. B.</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Peace of the Rose</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">The Countess Kathleen, and Various Legends and Lyrics</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Young, William</span>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> The Bridal Pair</td><td class="rt"><span class="itlc">Wishmakers’ Town</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> The Triflers</td><td class="rt"><span class="ditto">“</span><span class="ditto">“</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a>{325}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES" id="INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES"></a>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</h2> - -<p class="c"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Y">Y</a>.</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap"><a name="A" id="A"></a>A</span> beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_290">290</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">A hundred years from now, dear heart, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_024">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">A little love, of Heaven a little share, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_294">294</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">All glorious as the Rainbow’s birth, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_153">153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">All the phantoms of the future, all the spectres, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_136">136</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Alone, alone, thro’ the sunny street, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">And these—are these indeed the end, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_291">291</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Ask nothing more of me, sweet, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_251">251</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">As one would stand who saw a sudden light, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_193">193</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">At dinner she is hostess, I am host, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_155">155</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">A thousand knights have rein’d their steeds, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_009">9</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Azure of sky and silver of cloud, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_181">181</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="B" id="B"></a><span class="smcap">Barb’d</span> blossom of the guarded gorse, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_207">207</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Because thou wast cold and proud, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_306">306</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Beneath the loveliest dream there coils a fear, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_292">292</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Between the pansies and the rye, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Between the sunset and the sea, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_249">249</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Bland air and leagues of immemorial blue, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_230">230</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">By one rapt day Love doth his harvest mete, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_098">98</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="C" id="C"></a><span class="smcap">Cold</span> blows the wind against the hill, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_075">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Come, oh, come to me, voice or look, or spirit, - </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_022">22</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a>{326}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Comrades! in vain ye seek to learn, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_168">168</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Countess, I see the flying year, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">“<a name="D" id="D"></a><span class="smcap">Darling</span>,” he said, “I never meant”, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Dawn, with flusht foot upon the mountain tops, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_054">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Day after day of this azure May, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_269">269</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Dear, let me dream of love, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="F" id="F"></a><span class="smcap">Fair</span> star that on the shoulder of yon hill, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Far away hangs an apple that ripens on high, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_045">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Farewell my Youth! for now we needs must part, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_286">286</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Fold your arms around me, Sweet, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">For a day and night, Love sang to us, played, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_244">244</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">For the man was she made by the Eden tree, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_216">216</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">From out the past she comes to me, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_243">243</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="G" id="G"></a><span class="smcap">God</span>’s love and peace be with thee, where, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_295">295</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Gone!, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_262">262</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="H" id="H"></a><span class="smcap">Has</span> summer come without the rose, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_186">186</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hath any loved you well down there, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_183">183</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Herald of peace and joy, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_068">68</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Her tears are all thine own! how blest thou art!, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_275">275</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">How, as a spider’s web is spun, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_070">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">How like her! But ’tis she herself, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">How many lips have uttered one sweet word—, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top">“<a name="I-i" id="I-i"></a>I <span class="smcap">burn</span> my soul away!”, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_083">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I cannot look upon thy grave, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_209">209</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I charge you, O winds of the West, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_026">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I dared not lead my arm around, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I did not dream that Love would stay, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_273">273</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I’d send a troop of kisses to entangle, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_021">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If in thine eyes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If I were a monk, and thou wert a nun, </td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_138">138</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If Love could last, if Love could last,</td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_015">15</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a>{327}</span> -</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If love were like a thrush’s song, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If Michael, leader of God’s host, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_304">304</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If only a single Rose is left, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_020">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If only in dreams may man be fully blest, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_293">293</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I found him openly wearing her token, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_214">214</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If stars were really watching eyes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_029">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">If thou canst make the frost be gone, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_263">263</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I had never kissed her her whole life long, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_166">166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I have been here before, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_229">229</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I know not if moonlight or starlight, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_239">239</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I know ’tis late, but let me stay, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_281">281</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I marked all kindred Powers the heart finds fair, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_228">228</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">In after years a twilight ghost shall fill, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_167">167</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">In and out the osier beds, all along the shallows, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_234">234</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">In a still room at hush of dawn, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_043">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">In dream I saw Diana pass, Diana as of old, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_221">221</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">In that old beech-walk, now bestrewn with mast, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_277">277</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">In that tranced hush when sound sank awed, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_148">148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I question with the amber daffodils, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_285">285</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I saw young Love make trial of his bow, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_059">59</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I shall not see thee, nay, but I shall know, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I sit alone and watch the cinders glare, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_081">81</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">It is not mine to sing the stately grace, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_215">215</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">It is over now, she is gone to rest, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_279">279</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">It was not like your great and gracious ways, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_194">194</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">It was with doubt and trembling, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_005">5</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I’ve kissed thee, sweetheart, in a dream at least, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_078">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I will not let thee go, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_031">31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I will not say my true love’s eyes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_073">73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">I would wed you dear, without gold or gear, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_283">283</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="K" id="K"></a><span class="smcap">Keen</span> winds of cloud and vaporous drift, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Kiss me, and say good-bye,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a>{328}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="L" id="L"></a><span class="smcap">Last</span> night my lady talked with me, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_057">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Lids closed and pale, with parted lips she lay, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_300">300</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Lights Love, the timorous bird, to dwell, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_013">13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Listen, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_080">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Lo! in a dream Love came to me and cried, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_310">310</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Long are the hours the sun is above, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love had forgotten and gone to sleep, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_003">3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love in my heart! oh, heart of me, heart of me!, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_233">233</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love in the heart is as a nightingale, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_030">30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love is a Fire, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_004">4</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love is enough: ho, ye who seek saving, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_163">163</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love is enough: though the World be a-waning, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">“Love me, or I am slain!” I cried, and meant, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_236">236</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Love within the lover’s breast, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_156">156</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="M" id="M"></a><span class="smcap">Men</span>, women, call thee so and so, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_079">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">My days are full of pleasant memories, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_011">11</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">My lady has a casket cut, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_151">151</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">My life its secret and its mystery has, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_014">14</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">My love and I among the mountains strayed, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_176">176</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">My Love is a lady fair and free, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_143">143</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">My love is the flaming sword, to fight through, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_268">268</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="N" id="N"></a><span class="smcap">Nay</span>! if thou must depart, thou shalt depart, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_008">8</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wrought, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_107">107</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Not now, but later, when the road, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_213">213</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Not yet, dear love, not yet: the sun is high, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_062">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Now, by the blessed Paphian queen, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_099">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Now lay thee down to sleep, and dream of me, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_288">288</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_260">260</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="O" id="O"></a>O birds, ’twas not well done of you!, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_203">203</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">O brown lark, loving cloud-land best, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_053">53</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">O heart full of song in the sweet song-weather, -</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_188">188</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a>{329}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_241">241</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Oh, gather me the rose, the rose, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_091">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Oh, to think, oh, to think as I see her stand there, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Oh, when will it be, oh, when will it be, oh, when, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_255">255</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Oh, would, oh, would that thou and I, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_180">180</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">O knight, if thou a lady hast, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_085">85</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_258">258</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">O most fair God, O Love both new and old, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_199">199</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Once more I walk mid summer days, as one, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_147">147</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="P" id="P"></a><span class="smcap">Passion</span>? not hers who fixed me with pure eyes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_049">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Peace in her chamber, wheresoe’er, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_227">227</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Play me a march low-toned and slow, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_157">157</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Poets are singing, the whole world over, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_231">231</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Prince of painters, come, I pray, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_211">211</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="S" id="S"></a><span class="smcap">She</span> went with morning down the wood, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_141">141</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Sing on, sing on: half dreaming still, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_253">253</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Somewhere or other there must surely be, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_226">226</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">So sweet, so sweet the roses in their blowing, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_205">205</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">So you but love me, be it your own way, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_133">133</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Such a starved bank of moss, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_035">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Sullenly fell the rain while under the oak we stood, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Sweet as the change from pleasant thoughts, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_097">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="T" id="T"></a><span class="smcap">Tell</span> me wher, in what contree, is, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_256">256</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">That night on Judge’s Walk the wind, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_252">252</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The ancient memories buried lie, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_196">196</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The breaths of kissing night and day, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_265">265</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The broad green rollers lift and glide, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_301">301</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The cowslip glowed, the tulip burned, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_218">218</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_225">225</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The fire is smouldering while the daylight wanes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_055">55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The lights are out in the street, and a cool wind, -</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_271">271</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a>{330}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The little gate was reached at last, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_127">127</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The mavis sang but yesterday, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The place again, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The rain set early in to-night, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_036">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">There is a certain garden where I know, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_137">137</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">There is an air for which I would disown, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_110">110</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">There’s never a rose upon the bush, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_220">220</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The restless years that come and go, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_178">178</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">There were four apples on the bough, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_246">246</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The same green hill, the same blue sea, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_019">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The snow is white on wood and wold, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_172">172</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The star of love is trembling in the west, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_270">270</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The sun is bright,—the air is clear, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The wheel goes round, the wheel goes round, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_174">174</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The wind blows down the dusty street, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_224">224</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">The world goes up and the world goes down, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Though the roving bee as lightly, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_305">305</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Thou walkest with me as the spirit-light, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_028">28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Thou wilt come back again, but not for me, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Through laughing leaves the sunlight comes, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_050">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Thy shadow, O tardy night, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Time with his jealous icy blast, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_060">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">’Tis an old dial, dark with many a stain, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_064">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="U" id="U"></a><span class="smcap">Upon</span> that quiet day that lies, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_041">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Up, up, my heart! up, up, my heart, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_039">39</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="V-i" id="V-i"></a><span class="smcap">Vine</span>, vine and eglantine, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_261">261</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="W" id="W"></a><span class="smcap">Waves</span> the soft grass at my feet, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_307">307</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">We’re all alone, we’re all alone, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_237">237</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">What days await this woman whose strange feet, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_109">109</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">What hast thou done to me, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">What thought is folded in thy leaves, -</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_006">6</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a>{331}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When did the change come, dearest Heart, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_145">145</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When fair Hyperion dons his night attire, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_149">149</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When God some day shall call my name, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_170">170</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When I shall stand before the judgment throne, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When lovers’ lips from kissing disunite, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_276">276</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When she comes home again! A thousand ways, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_223">223</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When spring grows old, and sleepy winds, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_267">267</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When the hot wasp hung in the grape last year, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_076">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When the late leaves lit all the place, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_238">238</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When the leaves fall in autumn, and you go, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_082">82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">When violets blue begin to blow, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_298">298</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Who is it that weeps for the last year’s flowers, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_089">89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">With moon-white hearts that held a gleam, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_047">47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Would God I were the tender apple-blossom, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_278">278</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a name="Y" id="Y"></a><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, but the years run circling fleeter, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Your carmine flakes of bloom to-night, </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_042">42</a></td></tr> - -</table> - -<h2><a name="List_of_Poems" id="List_of_Poems"></a>List of Poems in the Order of Their Appearance.</h2> - -<p class="nind"> -<a href="#ENVOY"><span class="smcap">Envoy.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SINCE_YESTERDAY"><span class="smcap">Since Yesterday.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AN_AWAKENING"><span class="smcap">An Awakening.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVE_THE_DESTROYER"><span class="smcap">Love, The Destroyer.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SWEETHEART_SIGH_NO_MORE"><span class="smcap">Sweetheart, Sigh No More.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_FADED_VIOLET"><span class="smcap">The Faded Violet.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG1"><span class="smcap">Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CALAIS_SANDS"><span class="smcap">Calais Sands.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#PHANTOMS"><span class="smcap">Phantoms.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_GUEST"><span class="smcap">The Guest.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_SECRET"><span class="smcap">The Secret.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IF_LOVE_COULD_LAST"><span class="smcap">If Love Could Last!</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_JOURNEY"><span class="smcap">A Journey.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IF_ONLY_THOU_ART_TRUE"><span class="smcap">If Only Thou Art True.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_ECSTASY_OF_THE_HAIR"><span class="smcap">The Ecstasy Of The Hair.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_NIGHT_WATCHES"><span class="smcap">The Night Watches.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IN_A_ROSE_GARDEN"><span class="smcap">In A Rose Garden.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#I_CHARGE_YOU_O_WINDS_OF_THE_WEST"><span class="smcap">I Charge You, O Winds Of The West.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG2"><span class="smcap">Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CAELI"><span class="smcap">Cæli.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVE_IN_THE_HEART"><span class="smcap">Love In The Heart.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#I_WILL_NOT_LET_THEE_GO"><span class="smcap">I Will Not Let Thee Go.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LONG_ARE_THE_HOURS"><span class="smcap">Long Are The Hours.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#APPARITIONS"><span class="smcap">Apparitions.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#PORPHYRIAS_LOVER"><span class="smcap">Porphyria’s Lover.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ROBINS_SONG"><span class="smcap">Robin’s Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_HOUR_OF_SHADOWS"><span class="smcap">The Hour Of Shadows.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CARNATIONS_IN_WINTER"><span class="smcap">Carnations In Winter.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_EAVESDROPPER"><span class="smcap">The Eavesdropper.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_IMPOSSIBLE_SHE"><span class="smcap">The Impossible She.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_DREAM_SHAPE"><span class="smcap">A Dream Shape.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#UNREQUITED"><span class="smcap">Unrequited.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IN_THE_WOOD"><span class="smcap">In The Wood.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BIRDS_AND_LOVERS"><span class="smcap">Birds And Lovers.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#DAWN"><span class="smcap">Dawn.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVES_POWER"><span class="smcap">Love’s Power.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LAST_NIGHT_MY_LADY_TALKED_WITH_ME"><span class="smcap">Last Night My Lady Talked With Me.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVES_ARROWS"><span class="smcap">Love’s Arrows.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_LOVE_SONG1"><span class="smcap">A Love Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_PARTING_HOUR"><span class="smcap">The Parting Hour.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_SUNDIAL"><span class="smcap">The Sundial.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SPRING_SONG"><span class="smcap">Spring Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#TO_JESSIES_DANCING_FEET"><span class="smcap">To Jessie’s Dancing Feet.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_LOVE_SONG2"><span class="smcap">A Love Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_SONG"><span class="smcap">A Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_NOCTURNE"><span class="smcap">A Nocturne.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#VIOLETS"><span class="smcap">Violets.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_YEAR"><span class="smcap">A Year.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IVE_KISSED_THEE_SWEETHEART"><span class="smcap">I’ve Kissed Thee, Sweetheart.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#COMPLAINT"><span class="smcap">Complaint.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#HEARTS_DEMESNE"><span class="smcap">Heart’s Demesne.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IN_THE_EVENING"><span class="smcap">In The Evening.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#WHEN_THE_LEAVES_FALL_IN_AUTUMN"><span class="smcap">When The Leaves Fall In Autumn.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#QUI_SAIT_AIMER_SAIT_MOURIR"><span class="smcap">“Qui Sait Aimer, Sait Mourir.”</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG3"><span class="smcap">Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#O_KNIGHT_IF_THOU_A_LADY_HAST"><span class="smcap">O Knight, If Thou A Lady Hast.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AT_LAST"><span class="smcap">At Last.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_OLD_IS_BETTER"><span class="smcap">The Old Is Better.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BALLADE_OF_MIDSUMMER_DAYS_AND_NIGHTS"><span class="smcap">Ballade Of Midsummer Days And Nights.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#OH_GATHER_ME_THE_ROSE"><span class="smcap">Oh, Gather Me The Rose.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#HER_DREAM"><span class="smcap">Her Dream.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG4"><span class="smcap">Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_TRYST"><span class="smcap">The Tryst.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BY_ONE_RAPT_DAY"><span class="smcap">By One Rapt Day.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_DILEMMA"><span class="smcap">The Dilemma.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_MEASURE"><span class="smcap">The Measure.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#TWO_TRUTHS"><span class="smcap">Two Truths.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_PRAYER"><span class="smcap">A Prayer.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_JUNE_STORM"><span class="smcap">A June Storm.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#DOLCINO_TO_MARGARET"><span class="smcap">Dolcino To Margaret.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_BALLADE_OF_WAITING"><span class="smcap">A Ballade Of Waiting.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_FORECAST"><span class="smcap">A Forecast.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AN_OLD_TUNE"><span class="smcap">An Old Tune.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#GOOD-BYE"><span class="smcap">Good-bye.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#METEMPSYCHOSIS"><span class="smcap">Metempsychosis.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_BALLADE_OF_OLD_SWEETHEARTS"><span class="smcap">A Ballade Of Old Sweethearts.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IN_THE_MILE-END_ROAD"><span class="smcap">In The Mile-end Road.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVE_AFRAID"><span class="smcap">Love Afraid.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#TO_MY_MISTRESS"><span class="smcap">To My Mistress.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IT_IS_NOT_ALWAYS_MAY"><span class="smcap">It Is Not Always May.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ET_MELLE_ET_FELLE"><span class="smcap">Et Melle Et Felle.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_SONG_OF_LOVE"><span class="smcap">A Song Of Love.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_LONELY_LANDSCAPE"><span class="smcap">The Lonely Landscape.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_OUTCAST"><span class="smcap">The Outcast.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AUF_WIEDERSEHEN"><span class="smcap">Auf Wiedersehen!</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SEQUEL_TO_MY_QUEEN"><span class="smcap">Sequel To “My Queen.”</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IF"><span class="smcap">If ...?</span></a><br /> -<a href="#OMENS_AND_ORACLES"><span class="smcap">Omens And Oracles.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_GARDEN_OF_MEMORY"><span class="smcap">The Garden Of Memory.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IF_I_WERE_A_MONK_AND_THOU_WERT_A_NUN"><span class="smcap">If I Were A Monk, And Thou Wert A Nun.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_BALLADE_OF_COLOURS"><span class="smcap">A Ballade Of Colours.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#MY_AMAZON"><span class="smcap">My Amazon.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CHANGED_LOVE"><span class="smcap">Changed Love.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SUMMERS_RETURN"><span class="smcap">Summer’s Return.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#MINE"><span class="smcap">Mine.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AUBADE1"><span class="smcap">Aubade.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_PHIAL_AND_THE_PHILTRE"><span class="smcap">The Phial And The Philtre.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#NOT_I_SWEET_SOUL_NOT_I"><span class="smcap">Not I, Sweet Soul, Not I.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AT_DINNER_SHE_IS_HOSTESS"><span class="smcap">At Dinner She Is Hostess.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVE_WITHIN_THE_LOVERS_BREAST"><span class="smcap">Love Within The Lover’s Breast.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_DEAD_MARCH"><span class="smcap">A Dead March.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#FAIR_STAR_THAT_ON_THE_SHOULDER_OF_YON_HILL"><span class="smcap">Fair Star That On The Shoulder Of Yon Hill.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THY_SHADOW_O_TARDY_NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Thy Shadow, O Tardy Night.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_FIRST_LYRIC"><span class="smcap">The First Lyric.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_CONCLUDING_LYRIC"><span class="smcap">The Concluding Lyric.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BESIDE_A_BIER"><span class="smcap">Beside A Bier.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#HEREAFTER"><span class="smcap">Hereafter.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#FORTUNIOS_SONG"><span class="smcap">Fortunio’s Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SPLENDIDE_MENDAX"><span class="smcap">Splendide Mendax.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_KISS"><span class="smcap">The Kiss.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_MILL"><span class="smcap">The Mill.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_PASTORAL"><span class="smcap">A Pastoral.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#VIGILATE_ITAQUE"><span class="smcap">Vigilate Itaque.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_HORIZON"><span class="smcap">The Horizon.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SHADOWS"><span class="smcap">Shadows.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_FAREWELL"><span class="smcap">A Farewell.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG5"><span class="smcap">Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SUPREME_SUMMER"><span class="smcap">Supreme Summer.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AS_ONE_WOULD_STAND_WHO_SAW_A_SUDDEN_LIGHT"><span class="smcap">As One Would Stand Who Saw A Sudden Light.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#DEPARTURE"><span class="smcap">Departure.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CADENCES"><span class="smcap">Cadences.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CHANT_ROYAL_OF_THE_GOD_OF_LOVE"><span class="smcap">Chant Royal Of The God Of Love.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#FALSE_SPRING"><span class="smcap">False Spring.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IN_JUNE"><span class="smcap">In June.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_SONG_OF_WINTER"><span class="smcap">A Song Of Winter.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#TO_A_LOST_LOVE"><span class="smcap">To A Lost Love.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#PRINCE_OF_PAINTERS_COME_I_PRAY"><span class="smcap">Prince Of Painters, Come, I Pray.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_LAGOON_MESSAGE"><span class="smcap">A Lagoon Message.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_CONQUEST"><span class="smcap">A Conquest.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_DEVOUT_LOVER"><span class="smcap">The Devout Lover.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BALLADE_OF_LOVERS"><span class="smcap">Ballade Of Lovers.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IN_A_GARDEN"><span class="smcap">In A Garden.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_SONG_FOR_CANDLEMAS"><span class="smcap">A Song For Candlemas.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_DREAM_OF_DIANA"><span class="smcap">A Dream Of Diana.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#WHEN_SHE_COMES_HOME"><span class="smcap">When She Comes Home.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#POPLAR_LEAVES"><span class="smcap">Poplar Leaves.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AFTER_DEATH"><span class="smcap">After Death.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SOMEWHERE_OR_OTHER"><span class="smcap">Somewhere Or Other.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#FIRST_LOVE_REMEMBERED"><span class="smcap">First Love Remembered.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVE_ENTHRONED"><span class="smcap">Love Enthroned.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SUDDEN_LIGHT"><span class="smcap">Sudden Light.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_PERFECT_DAY"><span class="smcap">A Perfect Day.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#RUS_IN_URBE"><span class="smcap">Rus In Urbe.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG6"><span class="smcap">Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_COMING_OF_LOVE"><span class="smcap">The Coming Of Love.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#RECALL"><span class="smcap">Recall.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#FANTASIA"><span class="smcap">Fantasia.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ONLY_A_LEAF"><span class="smcap">Only A Leaf.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SONG_FROM_A_DRAMA"><span class="smcap">Song From A Drama.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_VIOLET"><span class="smcap">The Violet.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#TO_MY_LADY"><span class="smcap">To My Lady.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AT_PARTING"><span class="smcap">At Parting.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AUGUST"><span class="smcap">August.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BETWEEN_THE_SUNSET_AND_THE_SEA"><span class="smcap">Between The Sunset And The Sea.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_OBLATION"><span class="smcap">The Oblation.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ON_JUDGES_WALK"><span class="smcap">On Judge’s Walk.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ICH_HOR_ES_SOGAR_IM_TRAUM"><span class="smcap">Ich Hör’ Es Sogar Im Traum.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#OH_WHEN_WILL_IT_BE"><span class="smcap">Oh, When Will It Be?</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BALLADE_OF_THE_LADYES_OF_LONG_SYNE"><span class="smcap">Ballade Of The Ladyes Of Long Syne.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#FATIMA"><span class="smcap">Fatima.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#NOW_SLEEPS_THE_CRIMSON_PETAL"><span class="smcap">Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_WINDOW_OR_THE_SONGS_OF_THE_WRENS"><span class="smcap">The Window; Or The Songs Of The Wrens.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#GONE"><span class="smcap">Gone.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#VALENTINE"><span class="smcap">Valentine.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#DREAM_TRYST"><span class="smcap">Dream Tryst.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ATALANTA"><span class="smcap">Atalanta.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_SONG_OF_THANKSGIVING"><span class="smcap">A Song Of Thanksgiving.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#DAY_AFTER_DAY_OF_THIS_AZURE_MAY"><span class="smcap">Day After Day Of This Azure May.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_SONG_OF_TRISTRAM"><span class="smcap">The Song Of Tristram.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AUBADE2"><span class="smcap">Aubade.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LOVE_THE_GUEST"><span class="smcap">Love, The Guest.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_BLUSH_AT_FAREWELL"><span class="smcap">A Blush At Farewell.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_KISS_OF_BETROTHAL"><span class="smcap">The Kiss Of Betrothal.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_PARTING-GATE"><span class="smcap">The Parting-gate.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#IRISH_LOVE_SONG"><span class="smcap">Irish Love Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#GOOD-NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Good-night.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#I_KNOW_TIS_LATE_BUT_LET_ME_STAY"><span class="smcap">I Know ’Tis Late, But Let Me Stay.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#CASHEL_OF_MUNSTER"><span class="smcap">Cashel Of Munster.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#DAFFODILS"><span class="smcap">Daffodils.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AVE_ATQUE_VALE"><span class="smcap">Ave Atque Vale.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#EPITAPH"><span class="smcap">Epitaph.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_GOLDEN_HOUR"><span class="smcap">A Golden Hour.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AND_THESE_ARE_THESE_INDEED_THE_END"><span class="smcap">And These—are These Indeed The End?</span></a><br /> -<a href="#A_DREAM"><span class="smcap">A Dream.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_FIRST_KISS"><span class="smcap">The First Kiss.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SUFFICIENCY"><span class="smcap">Sufficiency.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#BENEDICITE"><span class="smcap">Benedicite.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#MY_VIOLET"><span class="smcap">My Violet.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#ASLEEP"><span class="smcap">Asleep.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#SWIMMING_SONG"><span class="smcap">Swimming Song.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_PEACE_OF_THE_ROSE"><span class="smcap">The Peace Of The Rose.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_BRIDAL_PAIR"><span class="smcap">The Bridal Pair.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#THE_TRIFLERS"><span class="smcap">The Triflers.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#AT_THY_GRAVE"><span class="smcap">At Thy Grave.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#LO_IN_A_DREAM_LOVE_CAME_TO_ME"><span class="smcap">Lo! In A Dream Love Came To Me.</span></a><br /> -<a href="#VALE"><span class="smcap">Vale.</span></a><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love's Old Sweet Song, by -George H. 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