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; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, To the flowers, and be their sun.
There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-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 Passion-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 passion 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 shine; 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 coarser 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]
SERENADE
The western wind is blowing fair Across the dark Aegean sea, And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. Come down! the purple sail is spread, The watchman sleeps within the town; O leave thy lily-flowered bed, O Lady mine, come down, come down!
She will not come, I know her well, Of lover's vows she hath no care, And little good a man can tell Of one so cruel and so fair. True love is but a woman's toy, They never know the lover's pain, And I, who love as loves a boy, Must love in vain, must love in vain.
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, Is that my Lady's lily hand? Or is it but the gleaming prow, Or is it but the silver sand?
No! no! 'tis not the tangled dew, 'Tis not the silver-fretted sand, It is my own dear Lady true With golden hair and lily hand! O noble pilot, steer for Troy! Good sailor, ply the laboring oar! This is the Queen of life and joy Whom we must bear from Grecian shore!
The waning sky grows faint and blue; It wants an hour still of day; Aboard! aboard! my gallant crew, O Lady mine, away! away! O noble pilot, steer for Troy! Good sailor, ply the laboring oar! O loved as only loves a boy! O loved for ever, evermore!
Oscar Wilde [1856-1900]
THE LITTLE RED LARK
O swan of slenderness, Dove of tenderness, Jewel of joys, arise! The little red lark, Like a soaring spark Of song, to his sunburst flies; But till thou art arisen, Earth is a prison, Full of my lonesome sighs: Then awake and discover, To thy fond lover, The morn of thy matchless eyes. The dawn is dark to me, Hark! oh, hark to me,
Pulse of my heart, I pray! And out of thy hiding With blushes gliding, Dazzle me with thy day. Ah, then once more to thee Flying I'll pour to thee Passion so sweet and gay, The larks shall listen, And dew-drops glisten, Laughing on every spray.
Alfred Perceval Graves [1846-1931]
SERENADE
By day my timid passions stand Like begging children at your gate, Each with a mute, appealing hand To ask a dole of Fate; But when night comes, released from doubt, Like merry minstrels they appear, The stars ring out their hopeful shout, Beloved, can you hear?
They dare not sing to you by day Their all-desirous song, or take The world with their adventurous lay For your enchanted sake. But when the night-wind wakes and thrills The shadows that the night unbars, Their music fills the dreamy hills, And folds the friendly stars.
Beloved, can you hear? They sing Words that no mortal lips can sound; Love through the world has taken wing, My passions are unbound. And now, and now, my lips, my eyes, Are stricken dumb with hope and fear, It is my burning soul that cries, Beloved, can you hear?
Richard Middleton [1882-1911]
THE COMEDY OF LOVE
A LOVER'S LULLABY
Sing lullaby, as women do, Wherewith they bring their babes to rest; And lullaby can I sing too, As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they still the child; And if I be not much beguiled, Full many a wanton babe have I, Which must be stilled with lullaby.
First lullaby my youthful years, It is now time to go to bed: For crooked age and hoary hairs Have won the haven within my head. With lullaby, then, youth be still; With lullaby content thy will; Since courage quails and comes behind, Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind!
Next lullaby my gazing eyes, Which wonted were to glance apace; For every glass may now suffice To show the furrows in thy face. With lullaby then wink awhile; With lullaby your looks beguile; Let no fair face, nor beauty bright, Entice you eft with vain delight.
And lullaby my wanton will; Let reason's rule now reign thy thought; Since all too late I find by skill How dear I have thy fancies bought; With lullaby now take thine ease, With lullaby thy doubts appease; For trust to this, if thou be still, My body shall obey thy will.
Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes, My will, my ware, and all that was: I can no more delays devise; But welcome pain, let pleasure pass. With lullaby now take your leave; With lullaby your dreams deceive; And when you rise with waking eye, Remember then this lullaby.