Volume Ii Part 91 (1/2)

Aubrey Thomas De Vere [1814-1902]

THE QUESTION

I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring; And gentle odors led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets; Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets-- Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth-- Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-colored may, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray; And flowers, azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours Within my hand;--and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it--O! to whom?

Percy Bysshe Sh.e.l.ley [1792-1822]

THE WANDERER

Love comes back to his vacant dwelling,-- The old, old Love that we knew of yore!

We see him stand by the open door, With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling.

He makes as though in our arms repelling, He fain would lie as he lay before;-- Love comes back to his vacant dwelling,-- The old, old Love that we knew of yore!

Ah, who shall keep us from over-spelling That sweet forgotten, forbidden lore!

E'en as we doubt in our hearts once more, With a rush of tears to our eyelids welling, Love comes back to his vacant dwelling.

Austin Dobson [1840-1921]

EGYPTIAN SERENADE

Sing again the song you sung When we were together young-- When there were but you and I Underneath the summer sky.

Sing the song, and o'er and o'er Though I know that nevermore Will it seem the song you sung When we were together young.

George William Curtis [1824-1892]

THE WATER LADY

Alas, the moon should ever beam To show what man should never see!

I saw a maiden on a stream, And fair was she!

I stayed awhile, to see her throw Her tresses back, that all beset The fair horizon of her brow With clouds of jet.

I stayed a little while to view Her cheek, that wore, in place of red, The bloom of water, tender blue, Daintily spread.