Knowing your promise to me; Queen-rose of the rose-bud garden of girls, In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, While the silver stars ride on that river. But this you may know: If you clasp Love's wings, And you hold him hard by that river, Why, his eyes grow green, and he turns and he stings, And the waters wax icy and shiver; The waters wax chill and the silvery wings Shine out, little head, sunning over with Of Love they are broken, as broken heartcurls, To the flowers and be their sun. There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-fiower 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;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" She is coming, my own, my sweet! Would start and tremble under her feet, ALFRED TENNYSON. strings, WHO IS LOVE? HY, Love, my love is a dragon fly Where waters flow warm, where willows droop by, Where lilies dip waveward and quiver, Where stars of heaven they shine for aye, If you take not hold of that dragon fly, By the musical, mystical river. Let Love go his ways; let the lilies grow But when Love may come, or when Love may You may guess and may guess, but you never shall know, "DON'T BE SORROWFUL, DAR LING." DON'T be sorrowful, darling! And don't be sorrowful, pray; Time's waves they heavily run; We are old folks now, my darling, Our heads are growing gray; But taking the year all around, my dear, We have had our May, my darling, And our roses long ago; And the time of the year is coming, my dear, For the silent night and the snow. But God is God, my darling, Of the night as well as the day; A God of the night, my darling, B REMBRANDT PEALE. A WOMAN'S QUESTION. EFORE 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 Does there within my dimmest dreams Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost. Look deeper still. If thou cans't feel, 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 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 thine own. Could'st thou withdraw thy hand one day That Fate, and that to-day's mistake- 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. HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LJOW do I love thee? Let me count the ways: I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight I love thee to the level of each day's I love thee with a love I seem to lose With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. LOVE'S IMPRESS. EJER light foot on a noble heart she set, And went again on her heedless way, Vain idol of so steadfast a regret 169 As never but with life could pass away. Youth and youth's easy virtues, made her fair; Triumphant through the sunny hours she ranged, Then came the winter-bleak, unlovely, bare, Still ruled her image over one unchanged. So, where some trivial creature played of old, The warm soft clay received the tiny dint; We cleave the deep rock's bosom, and behold, Sapped in its core the immemorial print. Men marvel such frail record should outlive The vanished forests and the hills o'er hurled; But high, souled love can keep a type alive Which has no living answer in the world. E. HINXMAN. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Of being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, And portance in my travel's history: I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake: She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd; And I lov'd her, that she did pity them, This only is the witchcraft I have us'd; Here comes the lady, let her witness it. WILLIAM SHAKSPERE. LOCHIN VAR. (From Marmion," Canto V.) H, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, When I did speak of some distressful stroke, 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; And bade me, if I had friend that lov'd her, for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all; Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), Oh come ye in peace, here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." |