A Love Symphony

625

MAUREEN

O, you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes, Girl of my choice, Maureen!

Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies,

Maureen?

Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo,

White rose of the West, Maureen:

For it's pale you are, and the fear that's on you is over me too,

Maureen!

Sure it's one complaint that's on us, asthore, this day,

Bride of my dreams, Maureen:

The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure,

they say,

Maureen!

I'll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face, Mavourneen, my own Maureen!

When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm's embrace,

Maureen!

O where was the King o' the World that day—only me? My one true love, Maureen!

And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree,

Maureen!

John Todhunter [1839

A LOVE SYMPHONY

ALONG the garden ways just now
I heard the flowers speak;

The white rose told me of your brow,
The red rose of your cheek;

The lily of your bended head,
The bindweed of your hair;
Each looked its loveliest and said
You were more fair.

I went into the wood anon,

And heard the wild birds sing,
How sweet you were, they warbled on,
Piped, trilled, the selfsame thing.
Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause
The burden did repeat,

And still began again because

You were more sweet.

And then I went down to the sea,

And heard it murmuring too,
Part of an ancient mystery,
All made of me and you:
How many a thousand years ago
I loved, and you were sweet-
Longer I could not stay, and so
I fled back to your feet.

Arthur O'Shaughnessy [1844-1881

LOVE ON THE MOUNTAIN

My love comes down from the mountain

Through the mists of dawn;

I look, and the star of the morning
From the sky is gone.

My love comes down from the mountain,

At dawn, dewy sweet;

Did you step from the star to the mountain,

O little white feet?

O whence came your twining tresses

And your shining eyes,

But out of the gold of the morning

And the blue of the skies?

"Loves She Like Me?"

The misty mountain is burning
In the sun's red fire,

And the heart in my breast is burning

And lost in desire.

I follow you into the valley

But no word can I say;

To the East or the West I will follow

Till the dusk of my day.

Thomas Boyd [1867

KATE TEMPLE'S SONG

ONLY a touch, and nothing more:
Ah! but never so touched before!

Touch of lip, was it? Touch of hand?

Either is easy to understand.

Earth may be smitten with fire or frost-

Never the touch of true love lost.

Only a word, was it? Scarce a word!

Musical whisper, softly heard,

Syllabled nothing-just a breath-

'Twill outlast life and 'twill laugh at death.

Love with so little can do so much

Only a word, sweet! Only a touch!

627

Mortimer Collins [1827-1876]

"LOVES SHE LIKE ME?"

O SAY, my fluttering heart,

Loves she like me?
Is hers thy counterpart,

Throbs it like thee?
Does she remember yet

The spot where first we met,

Which I shall ne'er forget,

Loves she like me?

Soft echoes still repeat
"Loves she like me?"
When on that mossy seat,
Beneath the tree,

I wake my amorous lay

While lambkins round me play,
And whispering zephyrs say,
Loves she like me?

On her I think by day,
Loves she like me?

With her in dreams I stray

O'er mead and lea.
My hopes of earthly bliss

Are all comprised in this,

To share her nuptial kiss,—
Loves she like me?

Does absence give her pain?

Loves she like me?

And does she thus arraign
Fortune's decree?

Does she my name repeat?
Will she with rapture greet

The hour that sees us meet?

Loves she like me?

Samuel Woodworth [1785-1842]

"DARLING, TELL ME YES”

ONE little minute more, Maud,
One little whisper more;
I have a word to speak, Maud,
I never breathed before.
What can it be but love, Maud;
And do I rightly guess
'Tis pleasant to your ear, Maud?
O darling! tell me yes!

"Do I Love Thee?"

The burden of my heart, Maud,

There's little need to tell;
There's little need to say, Maud,
I've loved you long and well.
There's language in a sigh, Maud,
One's meaning to express,
And yours-was it for me, Maud?
O darling! tell me yes!

My eyes have told my love, Maud,
And on my burning cheek,

You've read the tender thought, Maud,
My lips refused to speak.

I gave you all my heart, Maud,
'Tis needless to confess;

And did you give me yours, Maud?
O darling! tell me yes!

'Tis sad to starve a love, Maud,

So worshipful and true;

I know a little cot, Maud,

Quite large enough for two; And you will be my wife, Maud? So may you ever bless

Through all your sunny life, Maud,

The day you answered yes!

629

John Godfrey Saxe [1816-1887]

"DO I LOVE THEE?"

Do I love thee? Ask the bee
If she loves the flowery lea,
Where the honeysuckle blows
And the fragrant clover grows.

As she answers, Yes or No,
Darling! take my answer so.

Do I love thee? Ask the bird
When her matin song is heard,