Part 40

Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lend me leave to come unto my love? How slowly do the hours their numbers spend? How slowly does sad Time his feathers move? Haste thee, O fairest Planet, to thy home, Within the Western foam: Thy tired steeds long since have need of rest. Long though it be, at last I see it gloom, And the bright evening-star with golden crest Appear out of the East. Fair child of beauty! glorious lamp of love! That all the host of heaven in ranks dost lead, And guidest lovers through the night's sad dread, How cheerfully thou lookest from above, And seems to laugh atween thy twinkling light, As joying in the sight Of these glad many, which for joy do sing, That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring!

Now, cease, ye damsels, your delights fore-past; Enough is it that all the day was yours: Now day is done, and night is nighing fast, Now bring the bride into the bridal bowers. The night is come, now soon her disarray, And in her bed her lay; Lay her in lilies and in violets, And silken curtains over her display, And odored sheets, and Arras coverlets. Behold how goodly my fair love does lie, In proud humility! Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took In Tempe, lying on the flowery grass, 'Twixt sleep and wake, after she weary was, With bathing in the Acidalian brook. Now it is night, ye damsels may be gone, And leave my love alone, And leave likewise your former lay to sing: The woods no more shall answer, nor your echo ring.

Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected, That long day's labor dost at last defray, And all my cares, which cruel Love collected, Hast summed in one, and cancelled for aye: Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, That no man may us see; And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, From fear of peril and foul horror free. Let no false treason seek us to entrap, Nor any dread disquiet once annoy The safety of our joy; But let the night be calm, and quietsome, Without tempestuous storms or sad affray: Like as when Jove with fair Alcmena lay, When he begot the great Tirynthian groom: Or like as when he with thyself did lie And begot Majesty. And let the maids and young men cease to sing; Nor let the woods them answer, nor their echo ring.

Let no lamenting cries, nor doleful tears, Be heard all night within, nor yet without: Nor let false whispers, breeding hidden fears, Break gentle sleep with misconceived doubt. Let no deluding dreams, nor dreadful sights, Make sudden sad affrights; Nor let house-fires, nor lightning's helpless harms, Nor let the Puck, nor other evil sprites, Nor let mischievous witches with their charms, Nor let hobgoblins, names whose sense we see not, Fray us with things that be not: Let not the screech-owl nor the stork be heard, Nor the night raven, that still deadly yells; Nor damned ghosts, called up with mighty spells, Nor grizzly vultures, make us once afraid: Nor let the unpleasant choir of frogs still croaking Make us to wish their choking. Let none of these their dreary accents sing; Nor let the woods them answer, nor their echo ring.

But let still Silence true night-watches keep, That sacred Peace may in assurance reign, And timely Sleep, when it is time to sleep, May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant plain; The whiles an hundred little winged loves, Like divers-feathered doves, Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, And in the secret dark, that none reproves, Their pretty stealths shall work, and snares shall spread To filch away sweet snatches of delight, Concealed through covert night. Ye sons of Venus, play your sports at will! For greedy pleasure, careless of your toys, Thinks more upon her paradise of joys, Then what ye do, albeit good or ill. All night therefore attend your merry play, For it will soon be day: Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing; Nor will the woods now answer, nor your echo ring.

Who is the same, which at my window peeps? Or whose is that fair face that shines so bright? Is it not Cynthia, she that never sleeps, But walks about high heaven all the night? O! fairest goddess, do thou not envy My love with me to spy: For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought, And for a fleece of wool, which privily The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought, His pleasures with thee wrought. Therefore to us be favorable now; And since of women's labors thou hast charge, And generation goodly dost enlarge, Incline thy will to effect our wishful vow, And the chaste womb inform with timely seed, That may our comfort breed: Till which we cease our hopeful hap to sing; Nor let the woods us answer, nor our echo ring.

And thou, great Juno! which with awful might The laws of wedlock still dost patronize, And the religion of the faith first plight With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize; And eke for comfort often called art Of women in their smart; Eternally bind thou this lovely band, And all thy blessings unto us impart. And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand The bridal bower and genial bed remain, Without blemish or stain; And the sweet pleasures of their love's delight With secret aid dost succor and supply, Till they bring forth the fruitful progeny; Send us the timely fruit of this same night. And thou, fair Hebe! and thou, Hymen free! Grant that it may so be. Till which we cease your further praise to sing; Nor any woods shall answer, nor your echo ring.

And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods, In which a thousand torches flaming bright Do burn, that to us wretched earthly clods In dreadful darkness lend desired light; And all ye powers which in the same remain, More than we men can feign, Pour out your blessing on us plenteously, And happy influence upon us rain, That-we may raise a large posterity, Which from the earth, which they may long possess With lasting happiness, Up to your haughty palaces may mount; And, for the guerdon of their glorious merit, May heavenly tabernacles there inherit, Of blessed Saints for to increase the count. So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this, And cease till then our timely joys to sing: The woods no more us answer, nor our echo ring!

Song! made in lieu of many ornaments, With which my love should duly have been decked, Which cutting off through hasty accidents, Ye would not stay your due time to expect, But promised both to recompense; Be unto her a goodly ornament, And for short time an endless monument.

Edmund Spenser [1552?-1599]

THE KISS

Before you kissed me only winds of heaven Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain - Now you have come, how can I care for kisses Like theirs again?

I sought the sea, she sent her winds to meet me, They surged about me singing of the south - I turned my head away to keep still holy Your kiss upon my mouth.

And swift sweet rains of shining April weather Found not my lips where living kisses are; I bowed my head lest they put out my glory As rain puts out a star.

I am my love's and he is mine forever, Sealed with a seal and safe forevermore - Think you that I could let a beggar enter Where a king stood before?

Sara Teasdale [1884-1933]

MARRIAGE

Going my way of old Contented more or less I dreamt not life could hold Such happiness.

I dreamt not that love's way Could keep the golden height Day after happy day, Night after night.

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson [1878-

THE NEWLY-WEDDED

Now the rite is duly done, Now the word is spoken, And the spell has made us one Which may ne'er be broken; Rest we, dearest, in our home, Roam we o'er the heather: We shall rest, and we shall roam, Shall we not? together.

From this hour the summer rose Sweeter breathes to charm us; From this hour the winter snows Lighter fall to harm us: Fair or foul - on land or sea - Come the wind or weather, Best and worst, whate'er they be, We shall share together.

Death, who friend from friend can part, Brother rend from brother, Shall but link us, heart and heart, Closer to each other: We will call his anger play, Deem his dart a feather, When we meet him on our way Hand in hand together.

Winthrop Mackworth Praed [1802-1839]

"I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING"

I saw two clouds at morning, Tinged by the rising sun, And in the dawn they floated on, And mingled into one; I thought that morning cloud was blest, It moved so sweetly to the west.

I saw two summer currents Flow smoothly to their meeting, And join their course, with silent force, In peace each other greeting; Calm was their course through banks of green, While dimpling eddies played between.

Such be your gentle motion, Till life's last pulse shall beat; Like summer's beam, and summer's stream, Float on, in joy, to meet A calmer sea, where storms shall cease, A purer sky, where all is peace.

John Gardiner Calkins Brainard [1796-1828]

HOLY MATRIMONY

The voice that breathed o'er Eden, That earliest wedding-day, The primal marriage blessing, It hath not passed away.

Still in the pure espousal Of Christian man and maid, The holy Three are with us, The threefold grace is said.

For dower of blessed children, For love and faith's sweet sake, For high mysterious union, Which naught on earth may break.

Be present, awful Father, To give away this bride, As Eve thou gav'st to Adam Out of his own pierced side:

Be present, Son of Mary, To join their loving hands, As thou didst bind two natures In thine eternal bands:

Be present, Holiest Spirit, To bless them as they kneel, As thou for Christ, the Bridegroom, The heavenly Spouse dost seal.

Oh, spread thy pure wing o'er them, Let no ill power find place, When onward to thine altar The hallowed path they trace,

To cast their crowns before thee In perfect sacrifice, Till to the home of gladness With Christ's own Bride they rise. Amen.

John Keble [1792-1866]

THE BRIDE

Beat on the Tom-toms, and scatter the flowers, Jasmine, hibiscus, vermilion and white, This is the day, and the Hour of Hours, Bring forth the Bride for her Lover's delight. Maidens no more as a maiden shall claim her, Near, in his Mystery, draweth Desire. Who, if she waver a moment, shall blame her? She is a flower, and love is a fire.

Give her the anklets, the ring, and the necklace, Darken her eyelids with delicate art, Heighten the beauty, so youthful and fleckless, By the Gods favored, oh, Bridegroom, thou art! Twine in thy fingers her fingers so slender, Circle together the Mystical Fire, Bridegroom, - a whisper, - be gentle and tender, Choti Tinchaurya knows not desire.

Bring forth the silks and the veil that shall cover Beauty, till yesterday careless and wild; Red are her lips for the kiss of a lover, Ripe are her breasts for the lips of a child. Center and Shrine of Mysterious Power, Chalice of Pleasure and Rose of Delight, Shyly aware of the swift-coming hour, Waiting the shade and the silence of night.

Still must the Bridegroom his longing dissemble, Longing to loosen the silk-woven cord, Ah, how his fingers will flutter and tremble, Fingers well skilled with the bridle and sword. Thine is his valor, oh Bride, and his beauty, Thine to possess and re-issue again, Such is thy tender and passionate duty, Licit thy pleasure and honored thy pain.

Choti Tinchaurya, lovely and tender, Still all unbroken to sorrow and strife, Come to the Bridegroom who, silk-clad and slender, Brings thee the Honor and Burden of Life. Bidding farewell to thy light-hearted playtime, Worship thy Lover with fear and delight; Art thou not ever, though slave of his daytime, Choti Tinchaurya, queen of his night?

Laurence Hope [1865-1904]

A MARRIAGE CHARM

I set a charm upon your hurrying breath, I set a charm upon your wandering feet, You shall not leave me - not for life, nor death, Not even though you cease to love me, Sweet.

A woman's love nine Angels cannot bind, Nor any rune that wind or water knows, My heart were all as well set on the wind, Or bound, to live or die, upon a rose.

I set a charm upon you, foot and hand, That you and Knowledge, love, may never meet, That you may never chance to understand How strong you are, how weak your lover, Sweet.

I set my charm upon your kindly arm, I set it as a seal upon your breast; That you may never hear another's charm, Nor guess another's gift outruns my best.

I bid your wandering footsteps me to follow, Your thoughts to travel after in my track, I am the sky that waits you, dear gray swallow, No wind of mine shall ever blow you back.

I am your dream, Sweet; so no more of dreaming, Your lips to mine must end this chanted charm, Your heart to mine, 'neath nut-brown tresses streaming, I set my love a seal upon your arm.

Nora Hopper [1871-1906]

"LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT"

It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye, All the world, and we two, and Heaven be our stay! Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride! All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side.

What's the world, my lass, my love! - what can it do? I am thine, and thou art mine; life is sweet and new. If the world have missed the mark, let it stand by; For we two have gotten leave, and once more we'll try.

Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride! It's we two, it's we two, happy side by side. Take a kiss from me, thy man; now the song begins: "All is made afresh for us, and the brave heart wins."

When the darker days come, and no sun will shine, Thou shalt dry my tears, lass, and I'll dry thine. It's we two, it's we two, while the world's away, Sitting by the golden sheaves on our wedding-day.

Jean Ingelow [1820-1897]

MY OWEN

Proud of you, fond of you, clinging so near to you, Light is my heart now I know I am dear to you! Glad is my voice now, so free it may sing for you All the wild love that is burning within for you! Tell me once more, tell it over and over, The tale of that eve which first saw you my lover. Now I need never blush At my heart's hottest gush - The wife of my Owen her heart may discover!

Proud of you, fond of you, having all right in you, Quitting all else through my love and delight in you! Glad is my heart since 'tis beating so nigh to you! Light is my step for it always may fly to you! Clasped in your arms where no sorrow can reach to me, Reading your eyes till new love they shall teach to me. Though wild and weak till now, By that blest marriage vow, More than the wisest know your heart shall preach to me.

Ellen Mary Patrick Downing [1828-1869]

DORIS: A PASTORAL

I sat with Doris, the shepherd maiden; Her crook was laden with wreathed flowers. I sat and wooed her through sunlight wheeling, And shadows stealing for hours and hours.

And she, my Doris, whose lap incloses Wild summer roses of faint perfume, The while I sued her, kept hushed and harkened Till shades had darkened from gloss to gloom.

She touched my shoulder with fearful finger; She said, "We linger, we must not stay; My flock's in danger, my sheep will wander; Behold them yonder, how far they stray!"

I answered bolder, "Nay, let me hear you, And still be near you, and still adore! No wolf nor stranger will touch one yearling - Ah! stay my darling a moment more!"

She whispered, sighing, "There will be sorrow Beyond to-morrow, if I lose to-day; My fold unguarded, my flock unfolded - I shall be scolded and sent away!"

Said I, denying, "If they do miss you, They ought to kiss you when you get home; And well rewarded by friend and neighbor Should be the labor from which you come."

"They might remember," she answered meekly. "That lambs are weakly and sheep are wild; But if they love me it's none so fervent - I am a servant and not a child."

Then each hot ember glowed quick within me, And love did win me to swift reply: "Ah! do but prove me, and none shall bind you, Nor fray nor find you until I die!"

She blushed and started, and stood awaiting, As if debating in dreams divine; But I did brave them - I told her plainly, She doubted vainly, she must be mine.

So we, twin-hearted, from all the valley Did rouse and rally her nibbling ewes; And homeward drove them, we two together, Through blooming heather and gleaming dews.

That simple duty such grace did lend her, My Doris tender, my Doris true, That I her warder did always bless her, And often press her to take her due.

And now in beauty she fills my dwelling With love excelling, and undefiled; And love doth guard her, both fast and fervent, No more a servant, nor yet a child.

Arthur Joseph Munby [1828-1910]

"HE'D NOTHING BUT HIS VIOLIN"

He'd nothing but his violin, I'd nothing but my song, But we were wed when skies were blue And summer days were long; And when we rested by the hedge, The robins came and told How they had dared to woo and win, When early Spring was cold.

We sometimes supped on dew-berries, Or slept among the hay, But oft the farmers' wives at eve Came out to hear us play; The rare old songs, the dear old tunes, - We could not starve for long While my man had his violin, And I my sweet love-song.

The world has aye gone well with us Old man since we were one, - Our homeless wandering down the lanes It long ago was done. But those who wait for gold or gear, For houses or for kine, Till youth's sweet spring grows brown and sere, And love and beauty tine, Will never know the joy of hearts That met without a fear, When you had but your violin And I a song, my dear.

Mary Kyle Dallas [1830-1897]

LOVE'S CALENDAR

That gusty spring, each afternoon By the ivied cot I passed, And noted at that lattice soon Her fair face downward cast; Still in the same place seated there, So diligent, so very fair.

Oft-times I said I knew her not, Yet that way round would go, Until, when evenings lengthened out, And bloomed the may-hedge row, I met her by the wayside well, Whose waters, maybe, broke the spell.

For, leaning on her pail, she prayed, I'd lift it to her head. So did I; but I'm much afraid Some wasteful drops were shed, And that we blushed, as face to face Needs must we stand the shortest space.

Then when the sunset mellowed through The ears of rustling grain, When lattices wide open flew, When ash-leaves fell like rain, As well as I she knew the hour At morn or eve I neared her bower.

And now that snow o'erlays the thatch, Each starlit eve within The door she waits, I raise the latch, And kiss her lifted chin; Nor do I think we've blushed again, For Love hath made but one of twain.

William Bell Scott [1811-1890]

HOME

Two birds within one nest; Two hearts within one breast; Two spirits in one fair, Firm league of love and prayer, Together bound for aye, together blest.

An ear that waits to catch A hand upon the latch; A step that hastens its sweet rest to win; A world of care without, A world of strife shut out, A world of love shut in.

Dora Greenwell [1821-1882]

TWO LOVERS

Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrashes sing. O budding time! O love's blest prime!

Two wedded from the portal stept: The bells made happy carolings, The air was soft as fanning wings, White petals on the pathway slept. O pure-eyed bride! O tender pride!

Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked: These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour! O hidden power!

Two parents by the evening fire: The red light fell about their knees On heads that rose by slow degrees Like buds upon the lily spire. O patient life! O tender strife!

The two still sat together there, The red light shone about their knees; But all the heads by slow degrees Had gone and left that lonely pair. O voyage fast! O vanished past!

The red light shone upon the floor And made the space between them wide; They drew their chairs up side by side, Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!" O memories! O past that is!

George Eliot [1819-1880]

THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE

"Somewhere," he mused, "its dear enchantments wait, That land, so heavenly sweet; Yet all the paths we follow, soon or late, End in the desert's heat.

"And still it lures us to the eager quest, And calls us day by day" - "But I," she said, her babe upon her breast "But I have found the way."

"Some time," he sighed, "when youth and joy are spent, Our feet the gates may win" - "But I," she smiled, with eyes of deep content, "But I have entered in."

Emily Huntington Miller [1833-1913]

MY AIN WIFE

I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see; I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see; A bonnier yet I've never seen, A better canna be - I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see!

O couthie is my ingle-cheek, An' cheerie is my Jean; I never see her angry look, Nor hear her word on ane. She's gude wi' a' the neebors roun' An' aye gude wi' me - I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see.

An' O her looks sae kindlie, They melt my heart outright, When o'er the baby at her breast She hangs wi' fond delight; She looks intill its bonnie face, An' syne looks to me - I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see.

Alexander Laing [1787-1857]

THE IRISH WIFE

I would not give my Irish wife For all the dames of the Saxon land; I would not give my Irish wife For the Queen of France's hand; For she to me is dearer Than castles strong, or lands, or life. An outlaw - so I'm near her To love till death my Irish wife.

O what would be this home of mine, A ruined, hermit-haunted place, But for the light that nightly shines Upon its walls from Kathleen's face! What comfort in a mine of gold, What pleasure in a royal life, If the heart within lay dead and cold, If I could not wed my Irish wife?