But I would come away To dwell with you, my dear; Of all our days that were. PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. THE OLD STORY My heart is chill'd and my pulse is slow, I sit here dreaming them through and through, Blest or wretched, fetter'd or free, Ever and hopelessly. Oh, how often at day's decline I push'd from my window the curtaining vine, Flash'd from your heart to mine. Once more the starlight is silvering all; And I hear again through the sweet air fall But summers will vanish and years will wane, No gracious sunshine nor patient rain My heart is heavy, my heart is old, And that proves dross which I counted gold; I watch no longer your curtain's fold; The window is dark and the night is cold, And the story forever told. ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN (FLORENCE PERCY). SHE IS NOT FAIR TO OUTWARD VIEW SHE is not fair to outward view, Oh, then I saw her eye was bright, But now her looks are coy and cold, Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are. HARTLEY COLERIDGE. WE PARTED IN SILENCE WE parted in silence, we parted by night, The night-bird sung, and the stars above Of friends long pass'd to the kingdom of love, We parted in silence our cheeks were wet With the tears that were past controlling ; We vow'd we would never, no, never forget, And those vows at the time were consoling; And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine, And now on the midnight sky I look, Each star is to me a sealed book, Some tale of that loved one keeping. But the odor and bloom of those bygone years JULIA CRAWFORD. THE WHITE BIRDS I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea: We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can pass by and flee; And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that never may die. A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose, Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes, Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew: For I would we were changed to white birds on the white foam I and you. I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore, Where Time would surely forget us, and sorrow come near us no more: Soon far from the rose and the lily, the fret of the flames, would we be, Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoy'd out on the foam WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS. of the sea. EVENING SONG Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, Now in the sea's red vintage melts the sun, Come forth, sweet stars, and comfort heaven's heart; Never our lips, our hands. SIDNEY LANIER. O, SAW YE THE LASS? O, SAW ye the lass wi' the bonnie blue een ? But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen SERENADE [FOR MUSIC] THE western wind is blowing fair And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. O Lady mine, come down, come down! She will not come, I know her well, And little good a man can tell True love is but a woman's toy, They never know the lover's pain, O noble pilot, tell me true, Is that the sheen of golden hair? Or is it but the tangled dew That binds the passion-flowers there? Good sailor, come and tell me now, No! no! 't is not the tangled dew, It is my own dear Lady true This is the Queen of life and joy Whom we must bear from Grecian shore ! The waning sky grows faint and blue; O loved forever, evermore ! OSCAR WILDE. LOVE SCORNS DEGREES LOVE scorns degrees; the low he lifteth high, Two loving hearts may meet, nor meet in vain; PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE (The Mountain of the Lovers). A SONG OF KRISHNA I KNOW where Krishna tarries in these early days of spring, I know how Krishna passes these hours of blue and gold, And all the spears on all the boughs of all the Ketuk-glades maids; "T is there thy Krishna dances till the merry drum is done, All in the sunny spring time, when who can live alone? EDWIN ARNOLD (The Indian Song of Songs). |