Her Dwelling-Place I pace the sunny bowers alone Where naught of her remains but stone. Sing low-where is Diane? Diane does not remember. Helen Hay Whitney [18 ASLEEP ΙΙΟΙ He knelt beside her pillow in the dead watch of the night, And he heard her gentle breathing, but her face was still and white, And on her poor, wan cheek a tear told how the heart can weep, And he said, "My love was weary-God bless her! she's asleep." He knelt beside her grave-stone in the shuddering autumn night, And he heard the dry grass rustle, and his face was thin and white, And through his heart the tremor ran of grief that cannot weep, And he said, "My love was weary-God bless her! she's asleep." William Winter [1836 HER DWELLING-PLACE AMID the fairest things that grow The wild, bright creatures of the wood To light her dusky solitude Comes April's earliest offering. The calm Night from her urn of rest Pours downward an unbroken stream; All day upon her mother's breast My lady lieth in a dream. Love could not chill her low, soft bed THE WIFE FROM FAIRYLAND HER talk was all of woodland things, For she had come from fairyland, When the world that still was April Was turning into May. Green leaves and silence and two eyes— 'Twas so she seemed to me, A silver shadow of the woods, I looked into her woodland eyes, And all my granite and my gold I gave her all delight and ease But all I gave, and all I did, In the Fall o' Year She loitered in magnificence Of marble and of gold, Sometimes, in the chill galleries, So lone a thing I never saw There came a day when on her heart In the green eyes I saw a smile That turned my heart to stone: For there had come a little hand 1103 Home through the leaves, home through the dew, Home through the greenwood-home. Richard Le Gallienne [1866 IN THE FALL O' YEAR I WENT back an old-time lane In the fall o' year, There was wind and bitter rain Once the birds were lilting high In a far-off May- Were as glad as they. But the branches now are bare Long ago, with you! Thomas S. Jones, Jr. [1882 THE ROSARY THE hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, Oh memories that bless-and burn! I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn Sweetheart, To kiss the cross. Robert Cameron Rogers [1862-1912] LOVE'S FULFILMENT "MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART" From the "Arcadia" My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his, because in me it bides. His heart his wound received from my sight; So still me thought in me his heart did smart: SONG O SWEET delight, O more than human bliss, With her to live that ever loving is! To hear her speak whose words are so well placed That she by them, as they in her are graced: Such love as this the Golden Times did know, Which till their eyes ache, let iron men envy! |