Oh! lose the winter from thine heart, the darkness from thine eyes, And from the low hearth-chair of dreams, my Love-o'-May, arise; And let the maidens robe thee like a white white-lilac tree, Oh! hear the call of Spring, fair Soul,--and wilt thou come with me?

Even so, and even so!

Whither thou goest, I will go.

I will follow thee.

Then wilt thou see the orange trees star-flowering over Spain, Or arched and mounded Kaiser-towns that molder mid Almain, Or through the cypress-gardens go of magic Italy?

Oh East or West or South or North, say, wilt thou come with me?

Even so, or even so!

Whither thou goest, I will go.

I will follow thee.

But wilt thou farther come with me through hawthorn red and white Until we find the wall that hides the Land of Heart's Delight?

The gates all carved with olden things are strange and dread to see: But I will lift thee through, fair Soul. Arise and come with me!

Even so, Love, even so!

Whither thou goest, I will go!

Lo, I follow thee.

Rachel Annand Taylor [18--

SONG

Flame at the core of the world, And flame in the red rose-tree; The one is the fire of the ancient spheres, The other is Junes to be; And, oh, there's a flame that is both their flames Here at the heart of me!

As strong as the fires of stars, As the prophet rose-tree true, The fire of my life is tender and wild, Its beauty is old and new; For out of the infinite past it came With the love in the eyes of you!

Arthur Upson [1877-1908]

A MEMORY

The night walked down the sky With the moon in her hand; By the light of that yellow lantern I saw you stand.

The hair that swept your shoulders Was yellow, too, Your feet as they touched the gra.s.ses Shamed the dew.

The Night wore all her jewels, And you wore none, But your gown had the odor of lilies Drenched with sun.

And never was Eve of the Garden Or Mary the Maid More pure than you as you stood there Bold, yet afraid.

And the sleeping birds woke, trembling, And the folded flowers were aware, And my senses were faint with the fragrant Gold of your hair.

And our lips found ways of speaking What words cannot say, Till a hundred nests gave music, And the East was gray.

Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]

LOVE TRIUMPHANT

Helen's lips are drifting dust; Ilion is consumed with rust; All the galleons of Greece Drink the ocean's dreamless peace; Lost was Solomon's purple show Restless centuries ago; Stately empires wax and wane-- Babylon, Barbary, and Spain;-- Only one thing, undefaced, Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste And the heavens are overturned.

--Dear, how long ago we learned!

There's a sight that blinds the sun, Sound that lives when sounds are done, Music that rebukes the birds, Language lovelier than words, Hue and scent that shame the rose, Wine no earthly vineyard knows, Silence stiller than the sh.o.r.e Swept by Charon's stealthy oar, Ocean more divinely free Than Pacific's boundless sea,-- Ye who love have learned it true.

--Dear, how long ago we knew!

Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]

LINES

Love within the lover's breast Burns like Hesper in the West, O'er the ashes of the sun, Till the day and night are done; Then, when dawn drives up his car-- Lo! it is the morning star.

Love! thy love pours down on mine, As the sunlight on the vine, As the snow rill on the vale, As the salt breeze on the sail; As the song unto the bird On my lips thy name is heard.

As a dewdrop on the rose In thy heart my pa.s.sion glows; As a skylark to the sky, Up into thy breast I fly; As a sea-sh.e.l.l of the sea Ever shall I sing of thee.

George Meredith [1828-1909]

LOVE AMONG THE RUINS

Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward through the twilight, stray or stop As they crop-- Was the site once of a city great and gay, (So they say) Of our country's very capital, its prince Ages since Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far Peace or war.

Now,--the country does not even boast a tree, As you see, To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills From the hills Intersect and give a name to (else they run Into one), Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires Up like fires O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall Bounding all, Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed, Twelve abreast.

And such plenty and perfection, see, of gra.s.s Never was!

Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads And embeds Every vestige of the city, guessed alone, Stock or stone-- Where a mult.i.tude of men breathed joy and woe Long ago; l.u.s.t of glory p.r.i.c.ked their hearts up, dread of shame Struck them tame; And that glory and that shame alike, the gold Bought and sold.

Now,--the single little turret that remains On the plains, By the caper overrooted, by the gourd Overscored, While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks Through the c.h.i.n.ks-- Marks the bas.e.m.e.nt whence a tower in ancient time Sprang sublime, And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced As they raced, And the monarch and his minions and his dames Viewed the games.

And I know, while thus the quiet-colored eve Smiles to leave To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece In such peace, And the slopes and rills in undistinguished gray Melt away-- That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair Waits me there In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul For the goal, When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb, Till I come.

But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades'

Colonnades, All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts,--and then, All the men!

When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand, Either hand On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace Of my face, Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech Each on each.

In one year they sent a million fighters forth South and North, And they built their G.o.ds a brazen pillar high As the sky, Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force-- Gold, of course.