Volume Ii Part 57 (1/2)
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 n.o.ble pilot, tell me true, Is that the sheen of golden hair?
Or is it but the tangled dew That binds the pa.s.sion-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 n.o.ble pilot, steer for Troy!
Good sailor, ply the laboring oar!
This is the Queen of life and joy Whom we must bear from Grecian sh.o.r.e!
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 n.o.ble 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!