Chapter 33

Sweet is spring, and sweet the morning, my beloved, my beloved; Now for us doth spring, doth morning, wait upon the year's increase, And my prayer goes up, "Oh, give us, crowned in youth with marriage glory, Give for all our life's dear story, Give us love, and give us peace!"

Jean Ingelow [1820-1897]

ACROSS THE DOOR

The fiddles were playing and playing, The couples were out on the floor; From converse and dancing he drew me, And across the door.

Ah! strange were the dim, wide meadows, And strange was the cloud-strewn sky, And strange in the meadows the corncrakes, And they making cry!

The hawthorn bloom was by us, Around us the breath of the south. White hawthorn, strange in the night-time - His kiss on my mouth!

Padraic Colum [1881-

MAY MARGARET

If you be that May Margaret That lived on Kendal Green, Then where's that sunny hair of yours That crowned you like a queen? That sunny hair is dim, lad, They said was like a crown - The red gold turned to gray, lad, The night a ship went down.

If you be yet May Margaret, May Margaret now as then, Then where's that bonny smile of yours That broke the hearts of men? The bonny smile is wan, lad, That once was glad as day - And oh! 'tis weary smiling To keep the tears away.

If you be that May Margaret, As yet you swear to me, Then where's that proud, cold heart of yours That sent your love to sea? Ah, me! that heart is broken, The proud, cold heart has bled For one light word outspoken, For all the love unsaid.

Then Margaret, my Margaret, If all you say be true, Your hair is yet the sunniest gold, Your eyes the sweetest blue. And dearer yet and fairer yet For all the coming years - The fairer for the waiting, The dearer for the tears!

Theophile Marzials [1850-

RONDEL

Kissing her hair, I sat against her feet, Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet; Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes, Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies; With her own tresses bound and found her fair, Kissing her hair.

Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me, Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea; What pain could get between my face and hers? What new sweet thing would love not relish worse? Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there, Kissing her hair.

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

A SPRING JOURNEY

We journeyed through broad woodland ways, My Love and I. The maples set the shining fields ablaze. The blue May sky Brought to us its great Spring surprise; While we saw all things through each other's eyes.

And sometimes from a steep hillside Shone fair and bright The shadhush, like a young June bride, Fresh clothed in white. Sometimes came glimpses glad of the blue sea; But I smiled only on my Love; he smiled on me.

The violets made a field one mass of blue - Even bluer than the sky; The little brook took on that color too, And sang more merrily. "Your dress is blue," he laughing said. "Your eyes," My heart sang, "sweeter than the bending skies."

We spoke of poets dead so long ago, And their wise words; We glanced at apple-trees, like drifted snow; We watched the nesting birds, - Only a moment! Ah, how short the day! Yet all the winters cannot blow its sweetness quite away.

Alice Freeman Palmer [1855-1902]

THE BROOKSIDE

I wandered by the brookside, I wandered by the mill; I could not hear the brook flow, - The noisy wheel was still; There was no burr of grasshopper, No chirp of any bird, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.

I sat beneath the elm-tree; I watched the long, long shade, And, as it grew still longer, I did not feel afraid; For I listened, for a footfall, I listened for a word, - But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.

He came not, - no, he came not, - The night came on alone, - The little stars sat, one by one, Each on his golden throne; The evening wind passed by my cheek, The leaves above were stirred, - But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.

Fast silent tears were flowing, When something stood behind; A hand was on my shoulder, - I knew its touch was kind: It drew me nearer, - nearer, - We did not speak one word, For the beating of our own hearts Was all the sound we heard.

Richard Monckton Milnes [1809-1885]

SONG

For me the jasmine buds unfold And silver daisies star the lea, The crocus hoards the sunset gold, And the wild rose breathes for me. I feel the sap through the bough returning, I share the skylark's transport fine, I know the fountain's wayward yearning; I love, and the world is mine!

I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved, Still well remembered, grieve not me; From all that darkened and deceived Upsoars my spirit free. For soft the hours repeat one story, Sings the sea one strain divine, My clouds arise all flushed with glory; I love, and the world is mine!

Florence Earle Coates [1850-1927]

WHAT MY LOVER SAID

By the merest chance, in the twilight gloom, In the orchard path he met me; In the tall, wet grass, with its faint perfume, And I tried to pass, but he made no room, Oh, I tried, but he would not let me. So I stood and blushed till the grass grew red, With my face bent down above it, While he took my hand as he whispering said - (How the clover lifted each pink, sweet head, To listen to all that my lover said; Oh, the clover in bloom, I love it!)

In the high, wet grass went the path to hide, And the low, wet leaves hung over; But I could not pass upon either side, For I found myself, when I vainly tried, In the arms of my steadfast lover. And he held me there and he raised my head, While he closed the path before me, And he looked down into my eyes and said - (How the leaves bent down from the boughs o'erhead To listen to all that my lover said, Oh, the leaves hanging lowly o'er me!)

Had he moved aside but a little way, I could surely then have passed him; And he knew I never could wish to stay, And would not have heard what he had to say, Could I only aside have cast him. It was almost dark, and the moments sped, And the searching night wind found us, But he drew me nearer and softly said - (How the pure, sweet wind grew still, instead, To listen to all that my lover said; Oh, the whispering wind around us!)

I am sure he knew when he held me fast, That I must be all unwilling; For I tried to go, and I would have passed, As the night was come with its dew, at last, And the sky with its stars was filling. But he clasped me close when I would have fled, And he made me hear his story, And his soul came out from his lips and said - (How the stars crept out where the white moon led, To listen to all that my lover said; Oh, the moon and the stars in glory!)

I know that the grass and the leaves will not tell, And I'm sure that the wind, precious rover, Will carry my secret so safely and well That no being shall ever discover One word of the many that rapidly fell From the soul-speaking lips of my lover; And the moon and the stars that looked over Shall never reveal what a fairy-like spell They wove round about us that night in the dell, In the path through the dew-laden clover, Nor echo the whispers that made my heart swell As they fell from the lips of my lover.

Homer Greene [1853-

MAY-MUSIC

Oh! lose the winter from thine heart, the darkness from thine eyes, And from the low hearth-chair of dreams, my Love-o'-May, arise; And let the maidens robe thee like a white white-lilac tree, Oh! hear the call of Spring, fair Soul, - and wilt thou come with me?

Even so, and even so! Whither thou goest, I will go. I will follow thee.

Then wilt thou see the orange trees star-flowering over Spain, Or arched and mounded Kaiser-towns that molder mid Almain, Or through the cypress-gardens go of magic Italy? Oh East or West or South or North, say, wilt thou come with me?

Even so, or even so! Whither thou goest, I will go. I will follow thee.

But wilt thou farther come with me through hawthorn red and white Until we find the wall that hides the Land of Heart's Delight? The gates all carved with olden things are strange and dread to see: But I will lift thee through, fair Soul. Arise and come with me!

Even so, Love, even so! Whither thou goest, I will go! Lo, I follow thee.

Rachel Annand Taylor [18 -

SONG

Flame at the core of the world, And flame in the red rose-tree; The one is the fire of the ancient spheres, The other is Junes to be; And, oh, there's a flame that is both their flames Here at the heart of me!

As strong as the fires of stars, As the prophet rose-tree true, The fire of my life is tender and wild, Its beauty is old and new; For out of the infinite past it came With the love in the eyes of you!

Arthur Upson [1877-1908]

A MEMORY

The night walked down the sky With the moon in her hand; By the light of that yellow lantern I saw you stand.

The hair that swept your shoulders Was yellow, too, Your feet as they touched the grasses Shamed the dew.

The Night wore all her jewels, And you wore none, But your gown had the odor of lilies Drenched with sun.

And never was Eve of the Garden Or Mary the Maid More pure than you as you stood there Bold, yet afraid.

And the sleeping birds woke, trembling, And the folded flowers were aware, And my senses were faint with the fragrant Gold of your hair.

And our lips found ways of speaking What words cannot say, Till a hundred nests gave music, And the East was gray.

Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]

LOVE TRIUMPHANT

Helen's lips are drifting dust; Ilion is consumed with rust; All the galleons of Greece Drink the ocean's dreamless peace; Lost was Solomon's purple show Restless centuries ago; Stately empires wax and wane - Babylon, Barbary, and Spain; - Only one thing, undefaced, Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste And the heavens are overturned. - Dear, how long ago we learned!

There's a sight that blinds the sun, Sound that lives when sounds are done, Music that rebukes the birds, Language lovelier than words, Hue and scent that shame the rose, Wine no earthly vineyard knows, Silence stiller than the shore Swept by Charon's stealthy oar, Ocean more divinely free Than Pacific's boundless sea, - Ye who love have learned it true. - Dear, how long ago we knew!

Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]

LINES

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 [1828-1909]

LOVE AMONG THE RUINS

Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward through the twilight, stray or stop As they crop - Was the site once of a city great and gay, (So they say) Of our country's very capital, its prince Ages since Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far Peace or war.

Now, - the country does not even boast a tree, As you see, To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills From the hills Intersect and give a name to (else they run Into one), Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires Up like fires O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall Bounding all, Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed, Twelve abreast.

And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass Never was! Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads And embeds Every vestige of the city, guessed alone, Stock or stone - Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe Long ago; Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame Struck them tame; And that glory and that shame alike, the gold Bought and sold.

Now, - the single little turret that remains On the plains, By the caper overrooted, by the gourd Overscored, While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks Through the chinks - Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time Sprang sublime, And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced As they raced, And the monarch and his minions and his dames Viewed the games.

And I know, while thus the quiet-colored eve Smiles to leave To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece In such peace, And the slopes and rills in undistinguished gray Melt away - That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair Waits me there In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul For the goal, When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb, Till I come.

But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades' Colonnades, All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts, - and then, All the men! When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand, Either hand On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace Of my face, Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech Each on each.

In one year they sent a million fighters forth South and North, And they built their gods a brazen pillar high As the sky, Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force - Gold, of course. Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns! Earth's returns For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin! Shut them in, With their triumphs and their glories and the rest! Love is best!

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

EARL MERTOUN'S SONG From "The Blot in the 'Scutcheon"

There's a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest; And her noble heart's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's the surest: And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of luster Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster, Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck's rose-misted marble: Then her voice's music . . . call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble! And this woman says, "My days were sunless and my nights were moonless, Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart's outbreak tuneless, If you loved me not!" And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her, Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her - I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me, And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

MEETING AT NIGHT

The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low; And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed in the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; Three fields to cross till a farm appears; A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spirt of a lighted match, And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, Than the two hearts beating each to each!

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

PARTING AT MORNING

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim: And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me.

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

THE TURN OF THE ROAD

Soft, gray buds on the willow, Warm, moist winds from the bay, Sea-gulls out on the sandy beach, And a road my eager feet would reach, That leads to the Far-away.

Dust on the wayside flower, The meadow-lark's luring tone Is silent now, from the grasses tipped With dew at the dawn, the pearls have slipped - Far have I fared alone.

And then, by the alder thicket The turn of the road - and you! Though the earth lie white in the noonday heat, Or the swift storm follow our hurrying feet What do we care - we two!

Alice Rollit Coe [18 -

"MY DELIGHT AND THY DELIGHT"

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night:

My desire and thy desire Twining to a tongue of fire, Leaping live, and laughing higher;

Through the everlasting strife In the mystery of life.

Love, from whom the world begun, Hath the secret of the sun.

Love can tell, and love alone, Whence the million stars were strown, Why each atom knows its own, How, in spite of woe and death, Gay is life, and sweet is breath:

This he taught us, this we knew, Happy in his science true, Hand in hand as we stood 'Neath the shadows of the wood, Heart to heart as we lay In the dawning of the day.

Robert Bridges [1844-1930]

"O, SAW YE THE LASS"

O, saw ye the lass wi' the bonny blue een? Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen: Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween; She's the loveliest lassie that trips on the green. The home of my love is below in the valley, Where wild-flowers welcome the wandering bee; But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen Is the maid that I love wi' the bonny blue een.

When night overshadows her cot in the glen, She'll steal out to meet her loved Donald again; And when the moon shines on the valley so green, I'll welcome the lass wi' the bonny blue een. As the dove that has wandered away from his nest Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best, I'll fly from the world's false and vanishing scene, To my dear one, the lass wi' the bonny blue een.

Richard Ryan [1796-1849]

LOVE AT SEA Imitated From Theophile Gautier

We are in love's land to-day; Where shall we go? Love, shall we start or stay, Or sail or row? There's many a wind and way, And never a May but May; We are in love's hand to-day; Where shall we go?

Our land-wind is the breath Of sorrows kissed to death And joys that were; Our ballast is a rose; Our way lies where God knows And love knows where. We are in love's hand to-day -

Our seamen are fledged Loves, Our masts are bills of doves, Our decks fine gold; Our ropes are dead maids' hair, Our stores are love-shafts fair And manifold. We are in love's land to-day -

Where shall we land you, sweet? On fields of strange men's feet, Or fields near home? Or where the fire-flowers blow, Or where the flowers of snow Or flowers of foam? We are in love's hand to-day -

Land me, she says, where love Shows but one shaft, one dove, One heart, one hand, - A shore like that, my dear, Lies where no man will steer, No maiden land.

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

MARY BEATON'S SONG From "Chastelard"

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 yesterday's; 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 [1837-1909]

PLIGHTED

Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty! Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty: Love given willingly, full and free, Love for love's sake, - as mine to thee. Duty's a slave that keeps the keys, But Love, the master, goes in and out Of his goodly chambers with song and shout, Just as he please, - just as he please.

Mine, from the dear head's crown, brown-golden, To the silken foot that's scarce beholden; Give to a few friends hand or smile, Like a generous lady, now and awhile, But the sanctuary heart, that none dare win, Keep holiest of holiest evermore; The crowd in the aisles may watch the door, The high-priest only enters in.

Mine, my own, without doubts or terrors, With all thy goodnesses, all thy errors, Unto me and to me alone revealed, "A spring shut up, a fountain sealed." Many may praise thee, - praise mine as thine, Many may love thee, - I'll love them too; But thy heart of hearts, pure, faithful, and true, Must be mine, mine wholly, and only mine.

Mine! - God, I thank Thee that Thou hast given Something all mine on this side heaven: Something as much myself to be As this my soul which I lift to Thee: Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, Life of my life, whom Thou dost make Two to the world for the world's work's sake, - But each unto each, as in Thy sight, one.

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik [1826-1887]

A WOMAN'S QUESTION

Before I trust my fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy future give Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.

I break all slighter bonds, nor feel A shadow of regret: Is there one link within the past That holds thy spirit yet? Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?

Does there within thy dimmest dreams A possible future shine, Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, Untouched, unshared by mine? If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost.

Look deeper still. If thou canst feel, Within thy inmost soul, That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole, Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.

Is there within thy heart a need That mine cannot fulfil? One chord that any other hand Could better wake or still? Speak now - lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay.

Lives there within thy nature hid The demon-spirit change, Shedding a passing glory still On all things new and strange? It may not be thy fault alone, - but shield my heart against thy own.

Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day And answer to my claim, That Fate, and that to-day's mistake - Not thou - had been to blame? Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou wilt surely warn and save me now.

Nay, answer not, - I dare not hear, The words would come too late; Yet I would spare thee all remorse, So, comfort thee, my Fate, - Whatever on my heart may fall - remember, I would risk it all!

Adelaide Anne Procter [1825-1864]

"DINNA ASK ME"

O, dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye: Troth, I daurna tell! Dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye,- Ask it o' yoursel'.

O, dinna look sae sair at me, For weel ye ken me true; O, gin ye look sae sair at me, I daurna look at you.

When ye gang to yon braw, braw town, And bonnier lassies see, O, dinna, Jamie, look at them, Lest ye should mind na me.

For I could never bide the lass That ye'd lo'e mair than me; And O, I'm sure my heart wad brak, Gin ye'd prove fause to me!

John Dunlop [1755-1820]

A SONG

Sing me a sweet, low song of night Before the moon is risen, A song that tells of the stars' delight Escaped from day's bright prison, A song that croons with the cricket's voice, That sleeps with the shadowed trees, A song that shall bid my heart rejoice At its tender mysteries!

And then when the song is ended, love, Bend down your head unto me, Whisper the word that was born above Ere the moon had swayed the sea; Ere the oldest star began to shine, Or the farthest sun to burn, - The oldest of words, O heart of mine, Yet newest, and sweet to learn.

Hildegarde Hawthorne [18 -

THE REASON

Oh, hark the pulses of the night, The crickets hidden in the field, That beat out music of delight Till summoned dawn stands half revealed!

Oh, mark above the bearded corn And the green wheat and bending rye, Tuned to the earth, and calling morn, The stars vibrating in the sky!

And know, divided soul of me, Here in the meadow, sweet in speech, This perfect night could never be Were we not mated each to each.

James Oppenheim [1882-1932]

"MY OWN CAILIN DONN"

The blush is on the flower, and the bloom is on the tree, And the bonnie, bonnie sweet birds are caroling their glee; And the dews upon the grass are made diamonds by the sun, All to deck a path of glory for my own Cailin Donn!