The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 157 : From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That whenever a March-wind sighs He sets

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That whenever a March-wind sighs He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we meet And the valleys of Paradise.

The slender acacia would not shake One long milk-bloom on the tree; The white lake-blossom fell into the lake As the pimpernel dozed on the lea; But the rose was awake all night for your sake, Knowing your promise to me; The lilies and roses were all awake, They sighed for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, Come hither, the dances are done, In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, Queen lily and rose in one; s.h.i.+ne out, little head, sunning over with curls, To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear From the pa.s.sion-flower at the gate.

She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near"; And the white rose weeps, "She is late"; The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear"; And the lily whispers, "I wait."

She is coming my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

AT HER WINDOW

Ah, Minstrel, how strange is The carol you sing!

Let Psyche, who ranges The garden of spring, Remember the changes December will bring.

Beating Heart! we come again Where my Love reposes: This is Mabel's window-pane; These are Mabel's roses.

Is she nested? Does she kneel In the twilight stilly, Lily clad from throat to heel, She, my virgin Lily?

Soon the wan, the wistful stars, Fading, will forsake her; Elves of light, on beamy bars, Whisper then, and wake her.

Let this friendly pebble plead At her flowery grating; If she hear me will she heed?

Mabel, I am waiting.

Mabel will be decked anon, Zoned in bride's apparel; Happy zone! Oh hark to yon Pa.s.sion-shaken carol!

Sing thy song, thou tranced thrush, Pipe thy best, thy clearest;-- Hush, her lattice moves, oh hush-- Dearest Mabel!--dearest....

Frederick Locker-Lampson [1821-1895]

BEDOUIN SONG

From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.

Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!

Look from thy window and see My pa.s.sion and my pain; I lie on the sands below, And I faint in thy disdain.

Let the night-winds touch thy brow With the heat of my burning sigh, And melt thee to hear the vow Of a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!

My steps are nightly driven, By the fever in my breast, To hear from thy lattice breathed The word that shall give me rest.

Open the door of thy heart, And open thy chamber door, And my kisses shall teach thy lips The love that shall fade no more Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!

Bayard Taylor [1825-1878]

NIGHT AND LOVE From "Ernest Maltravers"

When stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me, then, thy tender eyes, As stars look on the sea!

For thoughts, like waves that glide by night, Are stillest when they s.h.i.+ne; Mine earthly love lies hushed in light Beneath the heaven of thine.

There is an hour when angels keep Familiar watch o'er men, When coa.r.s.er souls are wrapped in sleep-- Sweet spirit, meet me then

There is an hour when holy dreams Through slumber fairest glide; And in that mystic hour it seems Thou shouldst be by my side.

My thoughts of thee too sacred are For daylight's common beam: I can but know thee as my star, My angel and my dream!

Edward George Earle Bulwer Lytton [1803-1873]

NOCTURNE

Up to her chamber window A slight wire trellis goes, And up this Romeo's ladder Clambers a bold white rose.

I lounge in the ilex shadows, I see the lady lean, Unclasping her silken girdle, The curtain's folds between.

She smiles on her white-rose lover, She reaches out her hand And helps him in at the window-- I see it where I stand!

To her scarlet lip she holds him, And kisses him many a time-- Ah, me! it was he that won her Because he dared to climb!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich [1837-1907]

PALABRAS CARINOSAS Spanish Air

Good-night! I have to say good-night To such a host of peerless things!

Good-night unto the slender hand All queenly with its weight of rings; Good-night to fond, uplifted eyes, Good-night to chestnut braids of hair, Good-night unto the perfect mouth, And all the sweetness nestled there-- The snowy hand detains me, then I'll have to say Good-night again!

But there will come a time, my love, When, if I read our stars aright, I shall not linger by this porch With my farewells. Till then, good-night!

You wish the time were now? And I.

You do not blush to wish it so?

You would have blushed yourself to death To own so much a year ago-- What, both these snowy hands! ah, then I'll have to say Good-night again!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich [1837-1907]