Love's Calendar We sometimes supped on dew-berries, But oft the farmers' wives at eve Came out to hear us play; The rare old songs, the dear old tunes, We could not starve for long While my man had his violin, And I my sweet love-song, The world has aye gone well with us Old man since we were one, Our homeless wandering down the lanes It long ago was done. But those who wait for gold or gear, For houses or for kine, Till youth's sweet spring grows brown and sere, And love and beauty tine, Will never know the joy of hearts That met without a fear, When you had but your violin And I a song, my dear. 1169 Mary Kyle Dallas [1830-1897] LOVE'S CALENDAR THAT gusty spring, each afternoon Her fair face downward cast; Still in the same place seated there,, Oft-times I said I knew her not, For, leaning on her pail, she prayed, So did I; but I'm much afraid Some wasteful drops were shed, Then when the sunset mellowed through At morn or eve I neared her bower. And now that snow o'erlays the thatch, Each starlit eve within The door she waits, I raise the latch, And kiss her lifted chin; Nor do I think we've blushed again, For Love hath made but one of twain. William Bell Scott [1811-1890] HOME Two birds within one nest; Two hearts within one breast; Two spirits in one fair, Firm league of love and prayer, Together bound for aye, together blest. An ear that waits to catch A hand upon the latch; A step that hastens its sweet rest to win; A world of care without, A world of strife shut out, A world of love shut in. Dora Greenwell (1821-1882) TWO LOVERS Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing. Two Lovers O budding time! O love's blest prime! Two wedded from the portal stept: O tender pride! Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked: These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour! O hidden power! Two parents by the evening fire: O tender strife! The two still sat together there, The red light shone about their knees; But all the heads by slow degrees Had gone and left that lonely pair. O voyage fast!" O vanished past! The red light shone upon the floor And made the space between them wide; 1171 Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!" O memories! O past that is! George Eliot [1819-1880] THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE "SOMEWHERE," he mused, "its dear enchantments wait, That land, so heavenly sweet; Yet all the paths we follow, soon or late, End in the desert's heat. "And still it lures us to the eager quest, And calls us day by day" "But I," she said, her babe upon her breast, "Some time," he sighed, "when youth and joy are spent, Our feet the gates may win"— "But I," she smiled, with eyes of deep content, "But I have entered in." Emily Huntington Miller [1833– MY AIN WIFE I WADNA gi'e my ain wife I wadna gi'e my ain wife A bonnier yet I've never seen, A better canna be→→→ I wadna gi'e my ain wife O couthie is my ingle-cheek, Nor hear her word on ane. An' O her looks sae kindlie, They melt my heart outright, When o'er the baby at her breast She hangs wi' fond delight; The Irish Wife She looks intill its bonnie face, An' syne looks to me I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see. 1173 Alexander Laing (1787-1857] THE IRISH WIFE I WOULD not give my Irish wife For all the dames of the Saxon land; I would not give my Irish wife Than castles strong, or lands, or life. To love till death my Irish wife. O what would be this home of mine, If the heart within lay dead and cold, I knew the law forbade the banns; Must bow before their ladies' grace. I cannot wage with kinsmen strife: Take knightly gear and noble name, And I will keep my Irish wife. My Irish wife has clear blue eyes, My heaven by day, my stars by night; And twin-like truth and fondness lies Within her swelling bosom white. |