Volume Ii Part 117 (1/2)

But I would come away To dwell with you, my dear; Through unknown worlds to stray,-- Or sleep; nor hope, nor fear, Nor dream beneath the clay Of all our days that were.

Philip Bourke Marston [1850-1887]

”COME TO ME, DEAREST”

Come to me, dearest, I'm lonely without thee; Daytime and night-time, I'm thinking about thee; Night-time and daytime in dreams I behold thee; Unwelcome the waking which ceases to fold thee.

Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten, Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten; Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly, Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy.

Swallows will flit round the desolate ruin, Telling of spring and its joyous renewing; And thoughts of thy love and its manifold treasure, Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure.

O Spring of my spirit, O May of my bosom, s.h.i.+ne out on my soul, till it bourgeon and blossom; The waste of my life has a rose-root within it, And thy fondness alone to the suns.h.i.+ne can win it.

Figure that moves like a song through the even; Features lit up by a reflex of heaven; Eyes like the skies of poor Erin, our mother, Where shadow and suns.h.i.+ne are chasing each other; Smiles coming seldom, but childlike and simple, Planting in each rosy cheek a sweet dimple;-- O, thanks to the Saviour, that even thy seeming Is left to the exile to brighten his dreaming.

You have been glad when you knew I was gladdened; Dear, are you sad now to hear I am saddened?

Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, love, As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love: I cannot weep but your tears will be flowing, You cannot smile but my cheek will be glowing; I would not die without you at my side, love, You will not linger when I shall have died, love.

Come to me, dear, ere I die of my sorrow, Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow; Strong, swift, and fond are the words which I speak, love, With a song on your lip and a smile on your cheek, love.

Come, for my heart in your absence is weary,-- Haste, for my spirit is sickened and dreary,-- Come to my arms which alone should caress thee, Come to the heart which is throbbing to press thee!

Joseph Brenan [1829-1857]

SONG

'Tis said that absence conquers love!

But, oh! believe it not; I've tried, alas! its power to prove, But thou art not forgot.

Lady, though fate has bid us part, Yet still thou art as dear, As fixed in this devoted heart, As when I clasped thee here.

I plunge into the busy crowd, And smile to hear thy name; And yet, as if I thought aloud, They know me still the same; And when the wine-cup pa.s.ses round, I toast some other fair,-- But when I ask my heart the sound, Thy name is echoed there.

And when some other name I learn, And try to whisper love, Still will my heart to thee return Like the returning dove.

In vain! I never can forget, And would not be forgot; For I must bear the same regret, Whate'er may be my lot.

E'en as the wounded bird will seek Its favorite bower to die, So, lady! I would hear thee speak, And yield my parting sigh.

'Tis said that absence conquers love!

But, oh! believe it not; I've tried, alas! its power to prove, But thou art not forgot.

Frederick William Thomas [1811-1864]

PARTING