MARRIED LOVERS.

79

MARRIED LOVERS.

COME away, the clouds are high,

Put the flashing needles by.

Many days are not to spare,
Or to waste, my fairest fair!
All is ready. Come to-day,
For the nightingale her lay,
When she findeth that the whole
Of her love, and all her soul,
Cannot forth of her sweet throat,
Sobs the while she draws her breath,
And the bravery of her note

In a few days altereth.

Come, ere she despond, and see

In a silent ecstasy

Chestnuts heave for hours and hours

All the glory of their flowers

To the melting blue above,

That broods over them like love.
Leave the garden walls, where blow
Apple-blossoms pink, and low
Ordered beds of tulips fine.

Seek the blossoms made divine
With a scent that is their soul.
These are soulless. Bring the white
Of thy gown to bathe in light
Walls for narrow hearts. The whole
Earth is found, and air and sea,
Not too wide for thee and me.

Not too wide, and yet thy face
Gives the meaning of all space;
And thine eyes, with starbeams fraught,
Hold the measure of all thought;
For of them my soul besought,
And was shown a glimpse of thine-
A veiled vestal, with divine
Solace, in sweet love's despair,
For that life is brief as fair.
Who hath most, he yearneth most,
Sure, as seldom heretofore,
Somewhere of the gracious more.
Deepest joy the least shall boast,
Asking with new-opened eyes
The remainder: that which lies
O, so fair! but not all conned-
O, so near! and yet beyond.

Come, and in the woodland sit,
Seem a wonted part of it.

Then, while moves the delicate air,

And the glories of thy hair
Little flickering sun-rays strike,
Let me see what thou art like;
For great love enthralls me so,
That, in sooth, I scarcely know.
Show me, in a house all green,
Save for long gold wedges' sheen,
Where the flies, white sparks of fire,
Dart and hover and aspire,

And the leaves, air-stirred on high,

A LOVER'S SONG.

Feel such joy they needs must sigh,
And the untracked grass makes sweet
All fair flowers to touch thy feet,
And the bees about them hum.
All the world is waiting. Come!

THERE is nothing held so dear
As love, if only it be hard to win.

81

A LOVER'S SONG.

HE was but a child, a child,

SHE

And I a man grown;

Sweet she was, and fresh, and wild,
And I thought my own.

What could I do? The long grass groweth,
The long wave floweth with a murmur on:
The why and the wherefore of it all who knoweth ?
Ere I thought to lose her she was grown—and gone.
This day or that day in warm spring weather,

The lamb that was tame will yearn to break its tether. "But if the world wound thee," I said, "come back to

me,

Down in the dell wishing-wishing, wishing for thee."

The dews hang on the white may,

Like a ghost it stands,

All in the dusk before day

That folds the dim lands;

Dark fell the skies when once belated,

Sad, and sorrow-fated I missed the sun; But wake heart, and sing, for not in vain I waited. O clear, O solemn dawning, lo, the maid is won! Sweet dews, dry early on the grass and clover, Lest the bride wet her feet when she walks over; Shine to-day, sunbeams, and make all fair to see: Down the dell she's coming-coming with me.

A

A BIRTHDAY.

BIRTHDAY: - and now a day that rose With much of hope, with meaning rife — A thoughtful day from dawn to close;

The middle day of human life.

There are some days that die not out,
Nor alter by reflection's power,
Whose converse calm, whose words devout,
For ever rest, the spirit's dower.

And they are days when drops a veil
A mist upon the distance past;
And while we say to peace "All hail!"
We hope that always it shall last.

DAUGHTERS OF EVE.

83

DAUGE

DAUGHTERS OF EVE.

AUGHTERS of Eve! your mother did not well:
She laid the apple in your father's hand,

And we have read, O wonder! what befell,

The man was not deceived, nor yet could stand:
He chose to lose, for love of her, his throne,
With her could die, but could not live alone.

Daughters of Eve! he did not fall so low,

Nor fall so far, as that sweet woman fell, For something better, than as gods to know,

That husband in that home left off to dwell: For this, till love be reckoned less than lore, Shall man be first and best for evermore.

Daughters of Eve! it was for your dear sake
The world's first hero died an uncrowned king;
For God's great pity touched the grand mistake,
And made his married love a sacred thing:
For yet his nobler sons, if aught be true,
Find the lost Eden in their love to you.

I AM glad to think

I am not bound to make the wrong go right:
But only to discover, and to do

With cheerful heart, the work that God appoints.