Volume Ii Part 45 (1/2)

George Edward Woodberry [1855-1930]

THE CYCLAMEN

Over the plains where Persian hosts Laid down their lives for glory Flutter the cyclamens, like ghosts That witness to their story.

Oh, fair! Oh, white! Oh, pure as snow!

On countless graves how sweet they grow!

Or crimson, like the cruel wounds From which the life-blood, flowing, Poured out where now on gra.s.sy mounds The low, soft winds are blowing: Oh, fair! Oh, red! Like blood of slain; Not even time can cleanse that stain.

But when my dear these blossoms holds, All loveliness her dower, All woe and joy the past enfolds In her find fullest flower.

Oh, fair! Oh, pure! Oh, white and red!

If she but live, what are the dead!

Arlo Bates [1850-1918]

THE WEST-COUNTRY LOVER

Then, lady, at last thou art sick of my sighing?

Good-bye!

So long as I sue, thou wilt still be denying?

Good-bye!

Ah, well! shall I vow then to serve thee forever, And swear no unkindness our kins.h.i.+p can sever?

Nay, nay, dear my la.s.s! here's an end of endeavor.

Good-bye!

Yet let no sweet ruth for my misery grieve thee.

Good-bye!

The man who has loved knows as well how to leave thee.

Good-bye!

The gorse is enkindled, there's bloom on the heather, And love is my joy, and so too is fair weather; I still ride abroad, though we ride not together.

Good-bye!

My horse is my mate; let the wind be my master.

Good-bye!

Though Care may pursue, yet my hound follows faster.

Good-bye!

The red deer's a-tremble in coverts unbroken.

He hears the hoof-thunder; he scents the death-token.

Shall I mope at home, under vows never spoken?

Good-bye!