The Serf's Secret

How the cold air is infused

With the scent!

See, this satin leaf is bruised--
Bruised and bent,

Lift me, lift the wounded blossom,
Soothe it at your rosier bosom!

Frown not with averted eyes!
Joy's a flower

That is born a god, and dies

In an hour.

Take me, for the Summer closes,

And your life is but a rose's.

Edmund Gosse [1849

PLYMOUTH HARBOR

OH, what know they of harbors
Who toss not on the sea!

They tell of fairer havens

But none so fair there be

As Plymouth town outstretching
Her quiet arms to me;

Her breast's broad welcome spreading

From Mewstone to Penlee.

Ah, with this home-thought, darling,
Come crowding thoughts of thee.
Oh, what know they of harbors

Who toss not on the sea!

Mrs. Ernest Radford [18

THE SERF'S SECRET

I KNOW a secret, such a one
The hawthorn blossoms spider-spun,
The dew-damp daisies in the grass
Laugh up to greet me as I pass
To meet the upland sun.

645

It is that I would rather be
The little page, on bended knee,
Who stoops to gather up her train
Beneath the porch-lamp's ruby rain
Than hold a realm in fee.

It is that in her scornful eye,
Too hid for courtly sneer to spy,
I saw, one day, a look which said
That I, and only I, might shed
Love-light across her sky.

I know a secret, such a one
The hawthorn blossoms spider-spun,
The dew-damp daisies in the grass
Laugh up to greet me as I pass

To meet the upland sun.

William Vaughn Moody [1869-1910]

“O, INEXPRESSIBLE AS SWEET”

O, INEXPRESSIBLE as sweet,

Love takes my voice away;

I cannot tell thee when we meet
What most I long to say.

But hadst thou hearing in thy heart
To know what beats in mine,

Then shouldst thou walk, where'er thou art,

In melodies divine.

So warbling birds lift higher notes

Than to our ears belong;

The music fills their throbbing throats,

But silence steals the song.

George Edward Woodberry [1855

THE CYCLAMEN

OVER the plains where Persian hosts
Laid down their lives for glory
Flutter the cyclamens, like ghosts
That witness to their story.

The West-Country Lover

Oh, fair! Oh, white! Oh, pure as snow!
On countless graves how sweet they grow!

Or crimson, like the cruel wounds

From which the life-blood, flowing,
Poured out where now on grassy mounds
The low, soft winds are blowing:
Oh, fair! Oh, red! Like blood of slain;
Not even time can cleanse that stain.

But when my dear these blossoms holds,
All loveliness her dower,

All woe and joy the past enfolds

In her find fullest flower.

Oh, fair! Oh, pure! Oh, white and red!

If she but live, what are the dead!

Arlo Bates [1850

THE WEST-COUNTRY LOVER

THEN, lady, at last thou art sick of my sighing?
Good-bye!

So long as I sue, thou wilt still be denying?
Good-bye!

Ah, well! shall I vow then to serve thee forever,
And swear no unkindness our kinship can sever?
Nay, nay, dear my lass! here's an end of endeavor.
Good-bye!

Yet let no sweet ruth for my misery grieve thee.
Good-bye!

647

The man who has loved knows as well how to leave thee. Good-bye!

The gorse is enkindled, there's bloom on the heather,

And love is my joy, and so too is fair weather;

I still ride abroad, though we ride not together.
Good-bye!

My horse is my mate; let the wind be my master.
Good-bye!

Though Care may pursue, yet my hound follows faster.
Good-bye!

The red deer's a-tremble in coverts unbroken.

He hears the hoof-thunder; he scents the death-token. Shall I mope at home, under vows never spoken? Good-bye!

The brown earth's my book, and I ride forth to read it. Good-bye!

The stream runneth fast, but my will shall outspeed it.
Good-bye!

I love thee, dear lass, but I hate the hag Sorrow.
As sun follows rain, and to-night has its morrow,
So I'll taste of joy, though I steal, beg, or borrow!
Good-bye!

Alice Brown [1857

"BE YE IN LOVE WITH APRIL-TIDE"

BE ye in love with April-tide?

I' faith, in love am I!

For now 'tis sun, and now 'tis shower,
And now 'tis frost and now 'tis flower,
And now 'tis Laura laughing-eyed,

And now 'tis Laura shy!

Ye doubtful days, O slower glide!
Still smile and frown, O sky!
Some beauty unforeseen I trace
In every change of Laura's face;-
Be ye in love with April-tide?

I' faith, in love am I!

Clinton Scollard [1860

UNITY

HEART of my heart, the world is young:

Love lies hidden in every rose!

Every song that the skylark sung

Once, we thought, must come to a close:

Now we know the spirit of song,

Song that is merged in the chant of the whole,

Hand in hand as we wander along,

What should we doubt of the years that roll?

The Queen

Heart of my heart, we can not die!
Love triumphant in flower and tree,
Every life that laughs at the sky

Tells us nothing can cease to be;
One, we are one with a song to-day,

One with the clover that scents the wold, One with the Unknown, far away,

One with the stars, when earth grows old.

649

Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind,
One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea,

One in many, O broken and blind,

One as the waves are at one with the sea!

Ay! when life seems scattered apart,
Darkens, ends as a tale that is told,

One, we are one, O heart of my heart,
One, still one, while the world grows old.

Alfred Noyes [1880

THE QUEEN

He loves not well whose love is bold!
I would not have thee come too nigh:
The sun's gold would not seem pure gold
Unless the sun were in the sky:
To take him thence and chain him near
Would make his glory disappear.

He keeps his state,-keep thou in thine,
And shine upon me from afar!

So shall I bask in light divine,

That falls from love's own guiding star;
So shall thy eminence be high,

And so my passion shall not die;

But all my life shall reach its hands
Of lofty longing toward thy face,
And be as one who, speechless, stands
In rapture at some perfect grace!
My love, my hope, my all shall be
To look to heaven and look to thee!