"WHEN FIRST I SAW HER"

When first I saw her, at the stroke The heart of nature in me spoke; The very landscape smiled more sweet, Lit by her eyes, pressed by her feet; She made the stars of heaven more bright By sleeping under them at night; And fairer made the flowers of May By being lovelier than they.

O, soft, soft, where the sunshine spread, Dark in the gra.s.s I laid my head; And let the lights of earth depart To find her image in my heart; Then through my being came and went Tones of some heavenly instrument, As if where its blind motions roll The world should wake and be a soul.

George Edward Woodberry [1855-1930]

MY APRIL LADY

When down the stair at morning The sunbeams round her float, Sweet rivulets of laughter Are rippling in her throat; The gladness of her greeting Is gold without alloy; And in the morning sunlight I think her name is Joy.

When in the evening twilight The quiet book-room lies, We read the sad old ballads, While from her hidden eyes The tears are falling, falling, That give her heart relief; And in the evening twilight, I think her name is Grief.

My little April lady, Of sunshine and of showers She weaves the old spring magic, And breaks my heart in flowers!

But when her moods are ended, She nestles like a dove; Then, by the pain and rapture, I know her name is Love.

Henry Van d.y.k.e [1852-1933]

THE MILKMAID A New Song To An Old Tune

Across the gra.s.s I see her pa.s.s; She comes with tripping pace,-- A maid I know,--and March winds blow Her hair across her face;-- With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!

Dolly shall be mine, Before the spray is white with May, Or blooms the eglantine.

The March winds blow. I watch her go: Her eye is brown and clear; Her cheek is brown, and soft as down, (To those who see it near!)-- With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!

Dolly shall be mine, Before the spray is white with May, Or blooms the eglantine.

What has she not that those have got,-- The dames that walk in silk!

If she undo her kerchief blue, Her neck is white as milk.

With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!

Dolly shall be mine, Before the spray is white with May, Or blooms the eglantine.

Let those who will be proud and chill!

For me, from June to June, My Dolly's words are sweet as curds-- Her laugh is like a tune;-- With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!

Dolly shall be mine, Before the spray is white with May, Or blooms the eglantine.

Break, break to hear, O crocus-spear!

O tall Lent-lilies flame!

There'll be a bride at Easter-tide, And Dolly is her name.

With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!

Dolly shall be mine, Before the spray is white with May, Or blooms the eglantine.

Austin Dobson [1840-1921]

SONG

This peach is pink with such a pink As suits the peach divinely; The cunning color rarely spread Fades to the yellow finely; But where to spy the truest pink Is in my Love's soft cheek, I think.

The snowdrop, child of windy March, Doth glory in her whiteness; Her golden neighbors, crocuses, Unenvious praise her brightness!

But I do know where, out of sight, My sweetheart keeps a warmer white.

Norman Gale [1862-

IN FEBRUARY

My Lady's birthday crowns the growing year; A flower of Spring before the Spring is here; To sing of her and this fair day to keep The very Loves forsake their Winter sleep; Where'er she goes their circling wings they spread, And shower celestial roses o'er her head.

I, too, would chant her worth and dare to raise A hymn to what's beyond immortal praise.

Go, little verse, and lay in vesture meet Of poesy, my homage at her feet.

Henry Simpson [1868-

"LOVE, I MARVEL WHAT YOU ARE"

Love, I marvel what you are!

Heaven in a pearl of dew, Lilies hearted with a star-- All are you.

Spring along your forehead shines And the summer blooms your breast.

Graces of autumnal vines Round you rest.

Birds about a limpid rose Making song and light of wing While the warm wind sunny blows,-- So you sing.

Darling, if the little dust, That I know is merely I, Have availed to win your trust, Let me die.

Trumbull Stickney [1874-1904]

BALLADE OF MY LADY'S BEAUTY

Squire Adam had two wives, they say, Two wives had he for his delight; He kissed and clypt them all the day, And clypt and kissed them all the night.

Now Eve like ocean foam was white, And Lilith, roses dipped in wine, But though they were a goodly sight, No lady is so fair as mine.

To Venus some folk tribute pay, And Queen of Beauty she is hight, And Sainte Marie the world doth sway, In cerule napery bedight.