Little lady of my heart! Just a little longer Be a child; then we will part, Ere this love grow stronger. Ernest Dowson (1867-1900] MARIAN DRURY MARIAN DRURY, Marian Drury, How are the marshes full of the sea! Acadie dreams of your coming home All year through, and her heart gets free, Free on the trail of the wind to travel, Marian Drury, Marian Drury, How are the marshes full of the surge! April over the Norland now Walks in the quiet from verge to verge. Burying, brimming, the building billows Marian Drury, Marian Drury, How are the marshes full of the sun! All spring through they falter and follow, Marian Drury, Marian Drury, How are the marshes full of the rain! April over the Norland now Bugles for rapture, and rouses pain,- 999 Love's Rosary Halts before the forsaken dwelling, Where in the twilight, too spent to roam, Love, whom the fingers of death are quelling, Cries you a cheer from the Norland home. Marian Drury, Marian Drury, How are the marshes filled with you! Far in the uplands calling to win you, Tease the brown dusk on the marshes wide; And never the burning heart within you Stirs in your sleep by the roving tide. Bliss Carman [1861 LOVE'S ROSARY ALL day I tell my rosary For now my love's away: To-morrow he shall come to me A rosary of twenty hours, And then a rose of May; A rosary of fettered flowers, All day I tell my rosary, My rosary of hours: And here's a flower of memory, And here's a hope of flowers, And here's an hour that yearns with pain An hour of loss, an hour of gain, All day I tell my rosary, Because my love's away; And never a whisper comes to me, And never a word to say; But, if it's parting more endears, Or my heart will break in the darkness All day I tell my rosary, My rosary of hours, Until an hour shall bring to me The hope of all the flowers I tell my rosary of hours, For O, my love's away; And--a dream may bring him back to me About the break of day. Alfred Noyes [1880 WHEN SHE COMES HOME WHEN she comes home again! A thousand ways Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble—yes; I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise Mine eyes, such was my faint heart's sweet distress The room will sway a little, and a haze Again is hidden in the old embrace. James Whitcomb Riley [1852-1916] THE TRAGEDY OF LOVE SONG My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By Love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold: O why to him was't given, Whose heart is wintry cold? His breast is Love's all-worshipped tomb, Bring me an ax and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay: True love doth pass away! William Blake [1757-1827) THE FLIGHT OF LOVE WHEN the lamp is shattered When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. ΙΟΟΙ As music and splendor Survive not the lamp and the lute, No song when the spirit is mute— Like the wind through a ruined cell, That ring the dead seaman's knell. When hearts have once mingled, To endure what it once possessed. O Love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier? Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come. Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822] "FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER" FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer But waft thy name beyond the sky. |