'*^u, T If-' Sentiment God Keep You, Dearest f CHRISTY GIFT 'BOOK ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK ZMOFFAT, YA^D ^ND COMPANY 1910 Copyright, 1910, by MOFFAT. YARD AND COMPANY NEW YORK Published October, 1910 CONTENTS PAGE The Unchangeable . . . W. Shakespeare ... 3 To His Love . . . . W. Shakespeare ... 4 God Keep You .... Mary Devere ... 5 To Celia Ben Jonson .... 6 Song Sir John Suckling . . 7 A Picture 8 Love's Farewell . . . Michael Drayton . . 9 The Passionate Shepherd to His Love .... Christopher Marloive . 10 To Aurora n A Rondeau to Ethel . . Austin Dobson ... 12 A Ditty Sir P. Sidney .... 13 The True Beauty . . . T. Careiv 14 Go, Lovely Rose! . . . E. Waller .... 15 Frustra W. Shakespeare . . . 16 To Althea from Prison . Colonel Lovelace . . 17 To Give My Love Good- morrow Thomas Heywood . . 19 Constancy Earl of Rochester . . 20 When Twilight Dews . Thomas Moore ... 21 When We Two Parted . Lord Byron .... 22 Song R, B. Sheridan ... 24 The Indian Serenade . . P. B. Shelley .... 25 A Dilemma 26 Jean Robert Burns .... 27 A Lost Love ....//. F. Lyte .... 29 To a Young Lady . . . W. Coviper .... 30 A Red, Red Rose . . . Robert Burns .... 31 To Mary Robert Burns .... 32 Parting Gerald Massey ... 34 The Sleeping Beauty . . Samuel Rogers . 35 V Sally in Our Alley . . . The Time I've Lost in Wooing Absence Believe Me, if All Those En- dearing Young Charms Du bist wie eine Blume . The Kiss, Dear Maid . . Highland Farm She Walks in Beauty . When He, Who Adores Thee I Fear Thy Kisses . . The Loved One Ever Near Oh ! Say Not Woman's Heart Is Bought One Way of Love When Thou Art Nigh . On a Girdle . . . . Serenade To the End If She but Knew . . . Mine Happy Love . To One in Paradise . Maud So Sweet Love Seem'd In a Gondola . Annie Laurie What Shall I Do for My Love? When Stars Are in the Quiet Skies Henry Carey .... 36 Thomas Moore Thomas Moore 38 39 40 From German of Heine 41 Lord Byron Robert Burns . Lord Byron Thomas Moore P. B. Shelley . 42 43 45 46 47 Goethe 48 T. L. Peacock . R. Browning . Thomas Moore . Edmund Waller . Thomas Hood C. G. Rossetti . A. O'Shaughnessy Dinah M. Craik . Charles Mackay . Edgar Allan Poe Alfred Tennyson 49 50 The Lost Mistress . Is It Good-bye ? . R. Browning .... W. E. Henley . . . 68 60 Somewhere or Other . Ask Me No More . I Will Not Let Thee Go . Lovesight A Serenade When Other Friends Are Round Thee .... The Brookside .... Oh, Fear to Call It Loving Love at Sea .... Night Thoughts Lonsrintr C. G. Rossetti . . . Alfred Tennyson Robert Bridges D. G. Rossetti . . . E. C. Pinkney .... G. P. Morris .... Lord Houghton . E. B. Browning . From Theophile Gautier Coventry Patmore Matthew Arnold 70 71 72 74 75 76 77 79 80 82 8l The Miller's Daughter . Song In the Year That's Come and Gone Rondel Alfred Tennyson A. O'Shaughnessy W. E. Henley . . . John Payne .... 84 85 87 88 A Love Symphony . If Thou Must Love Me . Song The Night Has a Thou- sand Eyes .... My Delight and Thy De- light A. O'Shaughnessy . E. B. Browning . C, Monkhouse F. Bourdillon Robert Bridges 89 90 9i 92 Qt Willowwood D. G. Rossetti Qd. Geraldine, Geraldine . Never the Time and the Place You Played and Sang . To Daphne W. E. Henley . . . R. Browning .... W. E. Henley . . . Sir JV. Besant 95 96 97 oS She Dwelt Among the Un- trodden Ways . . . W. Wordsworth . . . 99 Vll A Match A. C. Swinburne . 100 C. G. Rossetti . . . 102 omening We Parted in Sadness . Charles Fenno Hoffman 103 Tenny Kissed Me ... Leigh Hunt .... 104 1 A Ballade of Roses . . /. H. McCarthy . . . 105 My Love to Me . . . W. E. Henley . . . 107 With Strawberries . . . W. E. Henley . . . 1 08 8? Ballade of Forgotten Loves Arthur Grissom 109 H. C. Bunner .... III 4 3d A. O'Shaughnessy 112 ^M OUllg W. . Henley . . . 113 %i& H Aide . . . . 114 w In the livening .... A Nice Correspondent Frederick Locker . "5 9W Which? The Harvard Lampoon . 118 The Wanderer .... Austin Dobson . 119 ihrt No Jewell'd Beauty . . Gerald Massey . 120 m When She Comes Home J. W. Riley . 122 True Woman .... D. G. Rossetti . . . 123 Oh, No Not E'en When First We Loved . . . Thomas Moore . . . 124 |l_Vw 9 Among the Heather . . George Arnold . 125 rSft They Know Not My Heart Thomas Moore . . 126 How Many Times . T. L. Beddoes . . . 127 r& Farewell! If Ever Fond- 1 k i S*> est Prayer . . . . Lord Byron . . . . 128 f n t viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS God Keep You, Dearest In Tea-cup Times . When We Two Parted .... The Light That Lies in Woman's Eyes This Hour My Utmost Art I Prove . Maud Is Not Seventeen I Will Not Let Thee Go . Love at Sea The Loved One's Face .... She Listen'd Like a Cushat Dove . The Bathers Which? . Frontispiece . Facing Page 12 22 " 38 5 60 72 80 96 1 02 no 118 IX a $ongs of ^entiment THE UNCHANGEABLE BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE O NEVER say that I was false of heart, Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify: As easy might I from myself depart As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie; That is my home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stain'd To leave for nothing all thy sum of gdod : For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all. TO HIS LOVE BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date ; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd: And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, un- trimm'd. But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thougrowest: So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. GOD KEEP YOU BY MARY DEVERE GOD keep you, dearest, all this lonely night: The winds are still, The moon drops down behind the west- ern hill; God keep you safely, dearest, till the light. God keep you then when slumber melts away, And care and strife Take up new arms to fret our waking life, God keep you through the battle of the day. God keep you. Nay, beloved soul, how vain, How poor is prayer! I can but say again, and yet again, God keep you every time and everywhere. TO CELIA BY BEN JONSON I DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. II I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee, As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st it back to me, Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee. 6 SONG BY SIR JOHN SUCKLING I PRITHEE send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine, For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine? Yet now I think on't, let it lie, To find it were in vain; For thou'rt a thief in either eye Would steal it back again. Why should two hearts in one breast lie, And yet not lodge together? O Love ! where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts thou sever? But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out; For when I think I'm best resolved, I then am in most doubt. 7 Then farewell care, and farewell woe, I will no longer pine: For I'll believe I have her heart As much as she has mine. A PICTURE SWEET LOVE, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory, Subdue her heart, who makes me glad and sorry : Out of thy golden quiver Take thou thy strongest arrow That will through bone and marrow, And me and thee of grief and fear deliver : But come behind, for if she look upon thee, Alas! poor Love! then thou art woe-begone thee. LOVE'S FAREWELL BY MICHAEL DRAYTON SINCE there's no help, come, let us kiss and part, Nay, I have done, you get no more of me ; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows; And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover ! 9 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE COME live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That hill and valley, grove and field, And all the craggy mountains yield. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning. If these delights thy mind may move, Come live with me and be my love. TO AURORA O IF thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm, And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest; Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy breast And thy relenting heart would kindly warm. O if thy pride did not our joys controul, What world of loving wonders should'st thou see! For if I saw thee once transform'd in me, Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul, ii A RONDEAU TO ETHEL BY AUSTIN DOBSON (Who wishes she had lived " In tea-cup times of hood and hoop, Or while the patch was worn."} " IN tea-cup times! " The style of dress Would suit your beauty, I confess ; BELiNDA-like, the patch you'd wear; I picture you with powdered hair, You'd make a charming Shepherdess! And I no doubt could well express SIR PLUME'S complete conceitedness, Could poise a clouded cane with care " In tea-cup times ! " The parts would fit precisely yes! We should achieve a huge success! You should disdain, and I despair, With quite the true Augustan air; But . . . could I love more, or less, " In tea-cup times? " 12 In Tea-cup Times f A DITTY BY SIR P. SIDNEY MY true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one for another given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides : He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his because in me it bides : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. 3^%^ THE TRUE BEAUTY BY T. CAREW HE that loves a rosy cheek Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires: Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes. GO, LOVELY ROSE! BY E. WALLER Go, lovely Rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. 15 Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee: How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair! FRUSTRA BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TAKE, O take those lips away That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, Bring again Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, Seal'd in vain TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON BY COLONEL LOVELACE WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fetter'd to her eye, The Gods that wanton in the air Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses bound, Our hearts with loyal flames; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free- Fishes that tipple in the deep Know no such liberty. When, (like committed linnets), I With shriller throat shall sing 17 f^ /r*,^**** \JLj*"* r \2>C\ CMIIIHI i? The sweetness, mercy, majesty And glories of my King; When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty. 18 TO GIVE MY LOVE GOOD-MORROW BY THOMAS HEYWOOD PACK, clouds, away, and welcome day, With night we banish sorrow; Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow; Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow. Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast, Sing, birds, in every furrow; And from each hill, let music shrill Give my fair Love good-morrow ! Blackbird and thrush in every bush, Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow! You pretty elves, amongst yourselves Sing my fair Love good-morrow; To give my Love good-morrow Sing, birds, in every furrow 1 19 rf^x < a-^ CONSTANCY BY J. WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER I CANNOT change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn, Since that poor swain that sighs for you, For you alone was born; No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move A surer way I'll try, And to revenge my slighted love, Will still love on, and die. When, kill'd with grief, Amintas lies, And you to mind shall call The sighs that now unpitied rise, The tears that vainly fall, That welcome hour that ends his smart Will then begin your pain, For such a faithful tender heart Can never break in vain. WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS BY THOMAS MOORE WHEN twilight dews are falling soft Upon the rosy sea, love, I watch the star, whose beam so oft Has lighted me to thee, love. And thou, too, on that orb so dear, Dost often gaze at even, And think, though lost for ever here, Thou'lt yet be mine in heaven. There's not a garden walk I tread, There's not a flower I see, love, But brings to mind some hope that's fled, Some joy that's gone with thee, love. And still I wish that hour was near, When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills we've wept through here, May turn to smiles in heaven. 21 WHEN WE TWO PARTED BY LORD BYRON WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss ; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this ! The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow; It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; 22 When We Two Parted \ tiS i p rf) A shudder comes o'er me Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well : Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell. In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? With silence and tears. Jr SONG BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN I NE'ER could any luster see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip. Has the maid who seeks my heart Cheeks of rose, untouched by art? I will own the color true When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure? I must press it, to be sure; Nor can I be certain then, Till it, grateful, press again. Must I, with attentive eye, Watch her heaving bosom sigh? I will do so when I see That heaving bosom sigh for me. THE INDIAN SERENADE BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me who knows how? To thy chamber-window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream The champak odors fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint It dies upon her heart, As I must die on thine beloved as thou art! Oh lift me from the grass! 1 die, I faint, I fail ! 25 Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas ! My heart beats loud and fast; Oh! press it close to thine again Where it will break at last. A DILEMMA LADY, when I behold the roses sprouting Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbors, And then behold your lips where sweet love harbors, My eyes present me with a double doubt- ing: For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses. JEAN BY ROBERT BURNS OF a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonnie bird that sings But minds me o' my Jean. O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees; 27 Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale Bring hame the laden bees; And bring the lassie back to me That's aye sae neat and clean; Ae smile o' her wad banish care, Sae charming is my Jean. What sighs and vows amang the knowes Hae pass'd atween us twa ! How fond to meet, how wae to part That night she gaed awa! The Powers aboon can only ken To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean ! A LOST LOVE BY H. F. LYTE I MEET thy pensive, moonlight face; Thy thrilling voice I hear; And former hours and scenes retrace, Too fleeting, and too dear! Then sighs and tears flow fast and free, Though none is nigh to share; And life has nought beside for me So sweet as this despair. There are crush'd hearts that will not break; And mine, methinks, is one; Or thus I should not weep and wake, And thou to slumber gone. I little thought it thus could be In days more sad and fair That earth could have a place for me, And thou no longer there. 29 Yet death cannot our hearts divide, Or make thee less my own : 'Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side Than watching here alone. Yet never, never can we part, While Memory holds her reign: Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart, Till we shall meet again. TO A YOUNG LADY BY W. COWPER SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng: With gentle yet prevailing force, Intent upon her destined course; Graceful and useful all she does. Blessing and blest where'er she goes; Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass And Heaven reflected in her face. 30 A RED, RED ROSE BY ROBERT BURNS OH, my luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: Oh, my luve's like the melodic That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun, I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile. TO MARY BY C. WOLFE IF I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be: It never through my mind had past The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain! But when I speak thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid; And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary! thou art dead! If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene 32 I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been. While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, Thou seemest still mine own; But there I lay thee in thy grave And I am now alone! I do not think, where'er thou art, Thou hast forgotten me; And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart, In thinking too of thee : Yet there was round thee such a dawn Of light ne'er seen before, As fancy never could have drawn, And never can restore! 33 PARTING BY GERALD MASSEY Too fair, I may not call thee mine: Too dear, I may not see Those eyes with bridal beacons shine; Yet, Darling, keep for me Empty and hush'd, and safe apart, One little corner of thy heart. Thou wilt be happy, dear! and bless Thee: happy mayst thou be. I would not make thy pleasure less; Yet, Darling, keep for me My life to light, my lot to leaven, One little corner of thy Heaven. Good-bye, dear heart! I go to dwell A weary way from thee; Our first kiss is our last farewell; Yet, Darling, keep for me Who wander outside in the night, One little corner o THE SLEEPING BEAUTY BY SAMUEL ROGERS SLEEP on, and dream of Heaven awhile Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still wear a smile And move, and breathe delicious sighs! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks And mantle o'er her neck of snow: Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks What most I wish and fear to know! She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Her fair hands folded on her breast: And now, how like a saint she sleeps! A seraph in the realms of rest ! Sleep on secure ! Above control Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary I SALLY IN OUR ALLEY BY HENRY CAREY OF all the girls that are so smart There's none like pretty Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There is no lady in the land Is half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. Her father he makes cabbage-nets And through the streets does cry 'em; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy 'em: But sure such folks could ne'er beget So sweet a girl as Sally! She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely; 36 My master comes like any Turk, And bangs me most severely But let him bang his bellyful, I'll bear it all for Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. Of all the days that's in the week I dearly love but one day And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday; For then I'm drest all in my best To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING BY THOMAS MOORE THE time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Tho' Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorned the lore she brought me, My only books Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. Her smile when beauty granted, I hung with gaze enchanted, Like him, the sprite Whom maids by night Oft meet in glen that's haunted. won n The Light That Lies in Woman's Eyes .*- V f And are these follies going? And is my proud heart growing Too cold or wise For brilliant eyes Again to set it glowing? No vain alas! th' endeavor From bonds so sweet to sever; Poor Wisdom's chance Against a glance Is now as weak as ever. ABSENCE WHEN I think on the happy days I spent wi' you, my dearie; And now what lands between us lie, How can I be but eerie! How slow ye move, ye heavy hours, As ye were wae and weary! It was na sae ye glinted by When I was wi' my dearie. 39 BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE EN- DEARING YOUNG CHARMS BY THOMAS MOORE BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this mo- ment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known, To which time will but make thee more dear; 40 No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose. DU BIST WIE EINE BLUME FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE E'EN as a lovely flower So fair, so pure thou art; I gaze on thee, and sadness Comes stealing o'er my heart. My hands I fain had folded Upon thy soft brown hair, Praying that God may keep thee So lovely, pure, and fair. THE KISS, DEAR MAID BY LORD BYRON THE kiss, dear maid, thy lip has left, Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gift, Untainted back to thine. The parting glance that fondly beams, An equal love may see; The tear that from thine eyelid streams, Can weep no change in me. I ask no pledge to make me blest, In gazing when alone, Nor one memorial for a breast Whose thoughts are all thine own. n weal or woe, HIGHLAND MARY BY ROBERT BURNS YE banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; 43 And pledging aft to meet again, We tore ourselves asunder; But, O ! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary! O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly; And mouldering now in silent dust The heart that lo'ed me dearly! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary. SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY BY LORD BYRON SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress Or softly lightens o'er her face, Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek and o'er that brow So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent. 45 WHEN HE, WHO ADORES THEE BY THOMAS MOORE WHEN he, who adores thee, has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh, say, wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Of a life that for thee was resign'd? Yes, weep, and however my foes may con- demn, Thy tears shall efface their decree; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, I have been but too faithful to thee. With thee were the dreams of my earliest love; Every thought of my reason was thine; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Thy name shall be mingled with mine. 46 Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee. I FEAR THY KISSES BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY I FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden; Thou need'st not fear mine; My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burthen thine. I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion, Thou need'st not fear mine; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine. 47 THE LOVED ONE EVER NEAR BY GOETHE (TRANSLATED BY J. S. DWIGHT) I THINK of thee, when the bright sunlight shimmers Across the sea; When the clear fountain in the moonbeam glimmers, I think of thee. I see thee, if far up the pathway yonder The dust be stirred; If faint steps o'er the little bridge to wander At night be heard. I hear thee, when the tossing waves' low rumbling Creeps up the hill; I go to the lone wood and listen, trembling, When all is still. I am with thee, wherever thou art roaming, And thou art near! The sun goes down, and soon the stars are coming; Would thou wert here I OH! SAY NOT WOMAN'S HEART IS BOUGHT BY THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK OH ! say not woman's heart is bought With vain and empty treasure; Oh ! say not woman's heart is caught By every idle pleasure. When first her gentle bosom knows Love's flame, it wanders never; Deep in her heart the passion glows, She loves, and loves for ever. Oh! say not woman's false as fair, That like the bee she ranges; Still seeking flowers more sweet and rare, As fickle fancy changes. Ah, no ! the love that first can warm Will leave her bosom never; No second passion e'er can charm, She loves, and loves for ever. 49 ONE WAY OF LOVE BY ROBERT BROWNING ALL June I bound the rose in sheaves. Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves And strow them where Pauline may pass. She will not turn aside? Alas! Let them lie. Suppose they die? The chance was they might take her eye. How many a month I strove to suit These stubborn fingers to the lute! To-day I venture all I know. She will not hear my music? So! Break the string; fold music's wing: Suppose Pauline had bade me sing! My whole life long I learn'd to love. This hour my utmost art I prove And speak my passion heaven or hell? She will not give me heaven? 'Tis well! Lose who may I still can say, Those who win heaven, bless'd are they! This Hour My Utmost Art I Prove =*R WHEN THOU ART NIGH BY THOMAS MOORE WHEN thou art nigh, it seems A new creation round; The sun hath fairer beams, The lute a softer sound. Though thee alone I see, And hear alone thy sigh, 'Tis light, 'tis song to me, 'Tis all when thou art nigh. When thou art nigh, no thought Of grief comes o'er my heart; I only think could aught But joy be where thou art? Life seems a waste of breath When far from thee I sigh; And death ay, even death Were sweet, if thou wert nigh. ON A GIRDLE BY EDMUND WALLER THAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this has done. It was my heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair. Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round ! SERENADE BY THOMAS HOOD AH, sweet ! thou little knowest how I wake, and passionate watches keep. And yet while I address thee now, Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep. 'Tis sweet enough to make me weep, That tender thought of love and thee, That while the world is hushed so deep Thy soul's perhaps awake to me. Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep, With golden visions for thy dower. While I this midnight vigil keep, And bless thee in thy silent bower; To me 'tis sweeter than the power Of sleep, and fairy dreams unfurled, That I alone, at this still hour, In patient love outwatch the world. 53 TO THE END BY C. G. ROSSETTI I WONDER if the Angels Love with such love as ours, If for each other's sake they pluck And keep eternal flowers. Alone I am and weary, Alone yet not alone : Her soul talks with me by the way From tedious stone to stone, A blessed Angel treads with me The awful paths unknown. If her spirit went before me Up from night to day, It would pass me like the lightning That kindles on its way. I should feel it like the lightning Flashing fresh from Heaven: I should long for Heaven sevenfold more, Yea and sevenfold seven: Should pray as I have not pray'd before, And strive as I have not striven. She will learn new love in Heaven, Who is so full of love; 54 She will learn new depths of tenderness Who is tender like a dove. Her heart will no more sorrow, Her eyes will weep no more : Yet it may be she will yearn And look back from far before: Lingering on the golden threshold And leaning from the door. IF SHE BUT KNEW BY ARTHUR o'SHAUGHNESSY IF she but knew that I am weeping Still for her sake, That love and sorrow grow with keeping Till they must break, My heart that breaking will adore her, If she might hear me once implore her, Would she not sigh? If she but knew that it would save me Her voice to hear, Saying she pitied me, forgave me, Must she forbear? If she were told that I was dying, Would she be dumb? Could she content herself with sighing? Would she not come? 55 MINE BY DINAH MULOCH CRAIK O HOW my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating, And I drink in joy like wine; O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating, For the lovely girl is mine! She's rich, she's fair, beyond compare, Of noble mind, serene and kind, And how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating, For the lovely girl is mine! O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating, In a music soft and fine; O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating, For the girl I love is mine. 56 She owns no lands, has no white hands, Her lot is poor, her life obscure; Yet how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating, For the girl I love is minel HAPPY LOVE BY CHARLES MACKAY SINCE the sweet knowledge I possess That she I love is mine, All nature throbs with happiness, And wears a face divine. The woods seem greener than they were, The skies are brighter blue; The stars shine clearer, and the air Lets finer sunlight through. Until I loved, I was a child, And sported on the sands; But now the ocean opens out, With all its happy lands. 57 TO ONE IN PARADISE BY EDGAR ALLAN POE THOU wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine: A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine. Ah, dream too bright to last ! Ah, starry Hope, that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, "On! on!" but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast. For, alas ! alas ! with me The light of Life is o'er! No more no more no more (Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore) Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar. And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy gray eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams. 59 MAUD BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON BIRDS in the high Hall-garden When twilight was falling, Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud, They were crying and calling. Where was Maud? in our wood; And I, who else, was with her, Gathering woodland lilies, Myriads blow together. Birds in our wood sang Ringing thro' the valleys, Maud is here, here, here In among the lilies. I kiss'd her slender hand, She took the kiss sedately; Maud is not seventeen, But she is tall and stately. 60 Maud Is Not Seventeen ct ir!ty, |<|io . I to cry out on pride Who have won her favor! Maud were sure of Heaven If lowliness could save her. 1 know the way she went Home with her maiden posy, For her feet have touch'd the meadows And left the daisies rosy. Birds in the high Hall-garden Were crying and calling to her, Where is Maud, Maud, Maud? One is come to woo her. Look, a horse at the door, And little King Charley snarling: Go back, my lord, across the moor, You are not her darling. 61 SO SWEET LOVE SEEM'D So sweet love seem'd that April morn, When first we kiss'd beside the thorn, So strangely sweet, it was not strange We thought that love could never change. But I can tell let truth be told That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is nought to see, So delicate his motions be. And in the end 'twill come to pass, Quite to forget what once he was, Nor even in fancy to recall The pleasure that was all in all. His little spring, that sweet we found, So deep in summer floods is drown'd, I wonder, bath'd in joy complete, How love so young could be so sweet. IN A GONDOLA BY ROBERT BROWNING THE moth's kiss, first! Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure, this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed Its petals up; so, here and there You brush it, till I grow aware Who wants me, and wide ope I burst. II The bee's kiss, now! Kiss me as if you entered gay My heart at some noonday, A bud that dares not disallow The claim, so all is rendered up, And passively its shattered cup Over your head to sleep I bow. ANNIE LAURIE MAXWELTON braes are bonnie Where early fa's the dew, And it's there that Annie Laurie Gie'd me her promise true, Gie'd me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be, And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee. Her brow is like the snaw drift; Her throat is like the swan; Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on, That e'er the sun shone on, And dark blue is her ee; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee. Like dew on the gowan lying Is the fa' o' her fairy feet; And like the winds in summer sighing Her voice is low and sweet, 64 Her voice is low and sweet; And she's a' the world to me; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee. WHAT SHALL I DO FOR MY LOVE? BY LEWIS MORRIS WHAT shall I do for my love, Who is so tender And dear and true, Loving and true and tender, My strength and my defender What shall I do? I will cleave unto my love, Who am too lowly For him to take. With a self-surrender holy I will cleave unto him solely, I will give my being wholly For his dear sake. 65 WHEN STARS ARE IN THE QUIET SKIES BY EDWARD, LORD LYTTON WHEN stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me then thy tender eyes, As stars look on the sea ! For thoughts, like waves that glide by night, Are stillest when they shine; Mine earthly love lies hush'd in light Beneath the heaven of thine. There is an hour when angels keep Familiar watch o'er men, When coarser souls are wrapp'd in sleep Sweet spirit, meet me then ! There is an hour when holy dreams Through slumber fairest glide; And in that mystic hour it seems Thou shouldst b My thoughts of thee too sacred are For daylight's common beam: I can but know thee as my star, My angel and my dream; When stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me then thy tender eyes, As stars look on the sea! THE LOST MISTRESS BY ROBERT BROWNING ALL'S over, then: does truth sound bitter As one at first believes? Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night, twitter About your cottage eaves ! And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly, I noticed that, to-day; One day more bursts them open fully You know the red turns gray. To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? May I take your hand in mine? Mere friends are we, well, friends the merest Keep much that I resign : For each glance of the eye so bright and black, Though I keep with heart's endeavor, Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops Yet I will but say what mere friends say, Or only a thought stronger; I will hold your hand but as long as all may, Or so very little longer! IS IT GOOD-BYE? BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY A WINK from Hesper falling Fast in the wintry sky Comes through the even blue, Dear, like a word from you. Is it good-bye? Across the miles between us, I send you sigh for sigh. Good night, sweet friend, good night; Till life and all take flight, Never good-bye. SOMEWHERE OR OTHER BY C. G. ROSSETTI SOMEWHERE or other there must surely be The face not seen, the voice not heard; The heart that not yet never yet ah me! Made answer to my word. Somewhere or other, may be near or far; Past land and sea, clean out of sight; Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star That tracks her night by night. Somewhere or other, may be far or near; With just a wall, a hedge, between; With just the last leaves of the dying year Fallen on a turf grown green. iv ASK ME NO MORE BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON ASK me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape ; But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee? Ask me no more. Ask me no more : what answer should I give ? I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die ! Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; Ask me no more. Ask me no more : thy fate and mine are seal'd : I strove against the stream and all in vain : Let the great river take me to the main: No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; Ask me no more. I WILL NOT LET THEE GO BY ROBERT BRIDGES I WILL not let thee go. Ends all our month-long love in this? Can it be summ'd up so, Quit in a single kiss? I will not let thee go. I will not let thee go. If thy words' breath could scare thy deeds, As the soft south can blow And toss the feather'd seeds, Then might I let thee go. I will not let thee go. Had not the great sun seen, I might; Or were he reckon'd slow To bring the false to light, Then might I let thee go. I will not let thee go. The stars that crowd the summer skies I Will Not Let Thee Go Have watch'd us so below With all their million eyes, I dare not let thee go. I will not let thee go. Have we not chid the changeful moon, Now rising late, and now Because she set too soon, And shall I let thee go? I will not let thee go. Have not the young flowers been content, Pluck'd ere their buds could blow, To seal our sacrament? I cannot let thee go. I will not let thee go. I hold thee by too many bands: Thou sayest farewell, and, lol I have thee by the hands, And will not let thee go. 73 LOVESIGHT BY D. G. ROSSETTI WHEN do I see thee most, beloved one? When in the light the spirits of mine eyes Before thy face, their altar, solemnize The worship of that Love through thee made known ? Or when in the dusk hours (we two alone), Close-kiss'd and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own ? O love, my love! if I no more should see Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee, Nor image of thine eyes in any spring, How then should sound upon Life's darken- ing slope The ground-whirl of the perish'd leaves of Hope, The wind of Death's imperishable wing? 74 A SERENADE BY E. C. PINKNEY LOOK out upon the stars, my love, And shame them with thine eyes, On which, than on the lights above, There hang more destinies. Night's beauty is the harmony Of blending shades and light; Then, lady, up, look out, and be A sister to the night! Sleep not! thine image wakes for aye Within my watching breast; Sleep not ! from her soft sleep should fly, Who robs all hearts of rest. Nay, lady, from thy slumbers break, And make this darkness gay, With looks whose brightness well might make Of darker nights a day. 75 " WHEN OTHER FRIENDS ARE ROUND THEE " BY GEORGE P. MORRIS WHEN other friends are round thee, And other hearts are thine, When other bays have crown'd thee, More fresh and green than mine, Then think how sad and lonely This doating heart will be, Which, while it throbs, throbs only, Beloved one, for thee ! Yet do not think I doubt thee, I know thy truth remains; I would not live without thee, For all the world contains. Thou art the star that guides me Along life's changing sea ; And whate'er fate betides me, This heart still turns to thee. THE BROOK-SIDE BY R. M. (MILNES), LORD HOUGHTON I WANDER'D by the brook-side, I wander'd by the mill, I could not hear the brook flow, The noisy wheel was still; There was no burr of grasshopper, Nor chirp of any bird, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. I sat beneath the elm-tree, I watch'd the long, long shade, And as it grew still longer, I did not feel afraid; For I listen'd for a footfall, I listen'd for a word, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. He came not, no, he came not, The night came on alone, 77 The little stars sat, one by one, Each on his golden throne; The evening air pass'd by my cheek, The leaves above were stirr'd, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound 1 heard. Fast silent tears were flowing, When something stood behind, A hand was on my shoulder, I knew its touch was kind: It drew me nearer -nearer, We did not speak one word, For the beating of our own hearts Was all the sound we heard. OH, FEAR TO CALL IT LOVING BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING UNLESS you can think, when the song is done, No other is soft in the rhythm; Unless you can feel, when left by One, That all men else go with him; Unless you can know when unpraised by his breath That your beauty itself wants proving; Unless you can swear " For life, for death!" Oh, fear to call it loving ! Unless you can muse in a crowd all day, On the absent face that fixed you; Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you ; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Though behooving and unbehooving; Unless you can die when the dream is past, Oh, never call it loving! 79 LOVE AT SEA IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER WE are in love's land to-day; Where shall we go? Love, shall we start or stay, Or sail or row? There's many a wind and way, And never a May but May; We are in love's land to-day; Where shall we go? Our landwind is the breath Of sorrows kiss'd to death And joys that were; Our ballast is a rose ; Our way lies where God knows And love knows where. We are in love's hand to-day- Our seamen are fledged Loves, Our masts are bills of doves, Our decks fine gold; 80 Love at Sea Our ropes are dead maids' hair, Our stores are love-shafts fair And manifold. We are in love's land to-day- Where shall we land you, sweet? On fields of strange men's feet, Or fields near home? Or where the fire-flowers blow, Or where the flowers of snow Or flowers of foam? We are in love's hand to-day- Land me, she says, where love Shows but one shaft, one dove, One heart, one hand, A shore like that, my dear, Lies where no man will steer, No maiden land. 81 NIGHT THOUGHTS BY COVENTRY PATMORE 'Tis sweeter than all else below, The daylight and its duties done, To fold the arms for rest, and so Relinquish all regards but one; To see her features in the dark; To lie and meditate once more, Some grace he did not fully mark, Some tone he had not heard before; Then from beneath his head to take Her notes, her picture, and her glove, Put there for joy when he shall wake, And press them to the heart of love; And then to whisper " Wife," and pray To live so long as not to miss That unimaginable day Which farther seems the nearer 'tis; And still from joy's unfathomed well To drink, in sleep, while, on her brow Of innocence ineffable, The laughing bridal roses blow. 82 LONGING BY MATTHEW ARNOLD COME to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again! For then the night will more than pay The hopeless longing of the day. Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times, A messenger from radiant climes, And smile on thy new world, and be As kind to others as to me ! Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth, Come now, and let me dream it truth; And part my hair, and kiss my brow, And say, My love! why suferest thou? Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again! For then the night will more than pay The hopeless longing of the day. THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON IT is the miller's daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles in her ear; For hid in ringlets day and night, I'd touch her neck so warm and white. And I would be the girdle About her dainty, dainty waist, And her heart would beat against me, In sorrow and in rest; And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight. And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise bosom, SONG BY ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY HAS summer come without the rose, Or left the bird behind? Is the blue changed above thee, O world! or am I blind? Will you change every flower that grows, Or only change this spot, Where she who said, I love thee, Now says, I love thee not? The skies seem'd true above thee, The rose true on the tree; The birds seem'd true the summer through, But all proved false to me. World ! is there one good thing in you, Life, love, or death or what? Since lips that sang, I love thee, Have said, I love thee not? I think the sun's kiss will scarce fall Into one flower's gold cup; 85 I think the bird will miss me, And give the summer up. O sweet place ! desolate in tall Wild grass, have you forgot How her lips loved to kiss me, Now 'that they kiss me not? Be false or fair above me, Come back with any face, Summer! do I care what you do? You cannot change one place The grass, the leaves, the earth, the dew, The grave I make the spot Here, where she used to love me, Here, where she loves me not. IN THE YEAR THAT'S COME AND GONE BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY IN the year that's come and gone, Love, his flying feather Stooping slowly, gave us heart, and bade us walk together. In the year that's coming on, though many a troth be broken, We at least will not forget aught that Love hath spoken. In the year that's come and gone, dear, we wove a tether All of gracious words and thoughts, binding two together. In the year that's coming on, with its wealth of roses, We shall weave it stronger yet, ere the circle closes. 8? In the year that's come and gone, in the golden weather, Sweet, my sweet, we swore to keep the watch of life together. In the year that's coming on, rich in joy and sorrow, We shall light our lamp, and wait life's mys- terious morrow. RONDEL BY JOHN PAYNE Kiss me, sweetheart; the Spring is here, And Love is Lord of you and me. The blue-bells beckon each passing bee; The wildwood laughs to the flowered year: There is no bird in brake or brere, But to his little mate sings he, " Kiss me, sweetheart ; the Spring is here, And Love is Lord of you and me ! " The blue sky laughs out sweet and clear, The missel-thrush upon the tree Pipes for sheer gladness And I go singing to my d( sweetheart: A LOVE SYMPHONY BY ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY 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 look'd 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, trill'd the self-same 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: 89 h * 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. IF THOU MUST LOVE ME BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IF thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say " I love her for her smile . . . her look . . . her way Of speaking gently, . . . for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day " For these things in themselves, Beloved, may Be changed, or change for thee, and love so wrought May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, Since one might well forget to weep who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby. But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou may'st love on through love's eternity. SONG BY COSMO MONKHOUSE WHO calls me bold because I won my love, And did not pine, And waste my life with secret pain, but strove To make him mine? I us'd no arts ; 'twas Nature's self that taught My eye to speak, And bid the burning blush to paint unsought My flushing cheek; That made my voice to tremble when I bid My love " Good-bye," So weak that every other sound was hid, Except a sigh. Oh, was it wrong to use the truth I knew, That hearts are mov'd, And spring warm-struck with life and love anew, By being lov'd? 91 One night there came a tear, that, big and loth, Stole 'neath my brow. 'Twas thus I won my heart's own heart, and both Are happy now. THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES BY FRANCIS BOURDILLON THE night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. MY DELIGHT AND THY DELIGHT BY ROBERT BRIDGES MY delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night: My desire and thy desire Twining to a tongue of fire, Leaping live, and laughing higher; Thro' the everlasting strife In the mystery of life. Love, from whom the world begun, Hath the secret of the sun. Love can tell, and love alone, Whence the million stars were strown, Why each atom knows its own, How, in spite of woe and death, Gay is life, and sweet is breath: This he taught us, this we knew, Happy in his science true, 93 Hand in hand as we stood 'Neath the shadows of the wood, Heart to heart as we lay In the dawning of the day. WILLOWWOOD BY D. G. ROSSETTI I SAT with Love upon a woodside well, Leaning across the water, I and he; Nor ever did he speak nor look'd at me, But touch'd his lute, wherein was audible The certain secret thing he had to tell : Only our mirror'd eyes met silently In the low wave ; and that sound came to be The passionate voice I knew; and my tears fell. And at their fall, his eyes beneath grew hers ; And with his foot and with his wing-feathers He swept the spring that water'd my heart's drouth. Then the dark ripples spread to waving hair, And as I stoop'd, her own lips rising there Bubbled with brimming kisses at my mouth. 94 GERALDINE, GERALDINE BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY WHY, my heart, do we love her so? (Geraldine, Geraldine!) Why does the great sea ebb and flow? Why does the round world spin? Geraldine, Geraldine, Bid me my life renew, What is it worth unless I win Love love and you ? Why, my heart, when we speak her name (Geraldine, Geraldine!) Throbs the word like a flinging flame? Why does the spring begin? Geraldine, Geraldine, Bid me indeed to be, Open your heart and take us in, Love love and me. 95 NEVER THE TIME AND THE PLACE BY ROBERT BROWNING NEVER the time and the place And the loved one all together! This path how soft to pace ! This May what magic weather! Where is the loved one's face? In a dream that loved one's face meets mine, But the house is narrow, the place is bleak Where, outside, rain and wind combine With a furtive ear, if I strive to speak, With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek, With a malice that marks each word, each sign ! O enemy sly and serpentine, Uncoil thee from the waking man! Do I hold the Past Thus firm and fast Yet doubt if the Future hold I can? This path so soft to pace shall lead Thro' the magic of May to herself indeed ! Or narrow if needs the house must be, Outside are the storms and strangers ; we Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, I and she! 96 The Loved One's Face YOU PLAYED AND SANG BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY You played and sang a snatch of song, A song that all too-well we knew; But whither had flown the ancient wrong, And was it really I and You? O, the end of life's to live And pay in pence the common debt, What should it cost us to forgive Whose daily task is to forget ? You babbled in the well-known voice Not new, not new the words you said. You touched me off that famous poise, That old effect, of neck and head. Dear, was it really You and I? In truth the riddle's ill to read, So many are the deaths we die Before we can be dead indeed. 97 TO DAPHNE BY SIR WALTER BESANT LIKE apple-blossom, white and red; Like hues of dawn, which fly too soon; Like bloom of peach, so softly spread; Like thorn of May and rose of June Oh, sweet! oh, fair! beyond compare, Are Daphne's cheeks, Are Daphne's blushing cheeks, I swear. That pretty rose, which comes and goes Like April sunshine in the sky, I can command it when I choose See how it rises when I cry. Oh, sweet! oh, fair! beyond compare, Are Daphne's cheeks, Are Daphne's blushing cheeks, I swear. Ah! when it lies round lips and eyes, And fades away, again to spring, No lover, sure, could ask for more Than still to cry, and still to sing; Oh, sweet ! oh, fair ! beyond compare, Are Daphne's cheeks, Are Daphne's blushing cheeks, I swear. SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove; A maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! 99 Lir I ($1 A MATCH BY ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IF love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon; If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, And I, your love, were death, 100 We'd shine and snow together Ere March made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling And hours of fruitful breath; If you were life, my darling, And I, your love, were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons With loving looks and treasons And tears of night and morrow And laughs of maid and boy; If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours And draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady And night were bright like day; If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May. 101 LISTENING BY C. G. ROSSETTI SHE listen'd like a cushat dove That listens to its mate alone: She listen'd like a cushat dove That loves but only one. Not fair as men would reckon fair, Nor noble as they count the line: Only as graceful as a bough, And tendrils of the vine: Only as noble as sweet Eve, Your ancestress and mine. And downcast were her dovelike eyes And downcast was her tender cheek; Her pulses flutter'd like a dove To hear him speak. m VIA 102 She Listen'd Like a Cushat Dove v* WE PARTED IN SADNESS BY CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN WE parted in sadness, but spoke not of parting; We talk'd not of hopes that we both must resign, I saw not her eyes, and but one tear-drop starting, Fell down on her hand as it trembled in mine : Each felt that the past we could never recover, Each felt that the future no hope could restore ; She shudder'd at wringing the heart of her lover, / dared not to say 1 must meet her no more. Long years have gone by, and the spring- time smiles ever As o'er our young loves it first smiled in their birth. 103 Long years have gone by, yet that parting, O ! never Can it be forgotten by either on earth. The note of each wild bird that carols toward heaven, Must tell her of swift-winged hopes that were mine, And the dew that steals over each blossom at even, Tells me of the tear-drop that wept their decline. JENNY KISSED ME BY LEIGH HUNT JENNY kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief! who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in. Say I'm weary, say I'm sad; Say that health and wealth have missed me; Say I'm growing old, but add Jenny kissed me ! A BALLADE OF ROSES BY JUSTIN HUNTLY M'CARTHY WHEN Venus saw Ascanius sleep On sweet Cythera's snow-white roses His face like Aden's made her weep, And long to kiss him where he dozes; But fearing to disturb the boy, She kissed the pallid blooms instead, Which blushed and kept their blush for joy, When Venus kissed white roses red. Straight of these roses she did reap Sufficient store of pleasant posies, And coming from Cythera's steep Where every fragrant flower that grows is, She tossed them for the winds to toy And frolic with till they were dead. Heaven taught the earth a fair employ When Venus kissed white roses red. For each red rose the symbol deep In its sad, happy heart incloses 105 Of kisses making love's heart leap, And every summer wind that blows is A prayer that ladies be not coy Of kisses ere brief life be sped. There gleamed more gold in earth's alloy When Venus kissed white roses red. Envoy All lovers true since windy Troy Flamed for a woman's golden head, You gained surcease from life's annoy When Venus kissed white roses red. MY LOVE TO ME BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY MY love to me is always kind: She neither storms, nor is she pined; She does not plead with tears or sighs, But gentle words and soft replies Dear earnests of the thought behind. They say the little god is blind, They do not count him quite too wise; Yet he, somehow, could bring and bind My love to me. And sweetest nut hath sourest rind ? It may be so; but she I prize Is even lovelier in mine eyes Than good and gracious to my mind. I bless the fortune that consigned My love to me. 107 WITH STRAWBERRIES BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY WITH strawberries we filled a tray, And then we drove away, away Along the links beside the sea, Where wave and wind were light and free, And August felt as fresh as May. And where the springy turf was gay With thyme and balm and many a spray. Of wild roses, you tempted me With strawberries! A shadowy sail, silent and gray, Stole like a ghost across the bay; But none could hear me ask my fee, And none could know what came to be. Can sweethearts all their thirst allay With strawberries? BALLADE OF FORGOTTEN LOVES BY ARTHUR GRISSOM SOME poets sing of sweethearts dead, Some sing of true loves far away; Some sing of those that others wed, And some of idols turned to clay. I sing a pensive roundelay To sweethearts of a doubtful lot, The passions vanished in a day The little loves that I've forgot. For, as the happy years have sped, And golden dreams have changed to gray, How oft the flame of love was fed By glance, or smile, from Maud or May, When wayward Cupid was at play; Mere fancies, formed of who knows what, But still my debt I ne'er can pay The little loves that I've forgot. O joyous hours forever fled! O sudden hopes that would not stay! 109 Held only by the slender thread Of memory that's all astray. Their very names I cannot say. Time's will is done, I know them not; But blessings on them all, I pray The little loves that I've forgot. ENVOI Sweetheart, why foolish fears betray? Ours is the one true lovers' knot; Note well the burden of my lay The little loves that I've forgot. The Bathers ** ON NEWPORT BEACH BY H. C. BUNKER (Rondeau) ON Newport beach there ran right merrily, In dainty navy blue clothed to the knee, Thence to the foot in white au naturel, A little maid. Fair was she, truth to tell, As Oceanus' child Callirrhoe. In the soft sand lay one small shell, its wee Keen scallops tinct with faint hues, such as be In girlish cheeks. In some old storm it fell On Newport Beach. There was a bather of the species he, Who saw the little maid go toward the sea; Rushing to help her through the billowy swell, He set his sole upon the little shell, And heaped profanely phrased obloquy On Newport Beach. in SONG BY ARTHUR o'SHAUGHNESSY I MADE another garden, yea, For my new love; I left the dead rose where it lay, And set the new above. Why did the summer not begin? Why did my heart not haste? My old love came and walk'd therein, And laid the garden waste. She enter'd with her weary smile, Just as of old; She look'd around a little while, And shiver'd at the cold. Her passing touch was death to all, Her passing look a blight: She made the white rose-petals fall, And turn'd the red rose white. Her pale robe, clinging to the grass, Seem'd like a snake 112 That bit the grass and ground, alas 1 And a sad trail did make. She went up slowly to the gate; And there, just as of yore, She turn'd back at the last to wait, And say farewell once more. LOVE NOTES BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute, But I love him best of all. For his song is all of the joy of life, And we in the mad spring weather, We two have listened till he sang Our hearts and lips together. IN THE EVENING BY HAMILTON AIDE O LOVE, when life was young, I knew But little what you were to be, A light more bounteous to me While lengthening shadows grew. Have I been silent, Love, or cold? It may be you have little guessed All the strong love, half unexpressed, Stronger, as I grew old. But, Darling, when the day is done, And we together walk at peace, In that bright world, where sorrows cease, Beyond the set of sun : What best of me you brought to light On this dark earth shall there expand, And each shall wholly understand What now is hid from sight. A NICE CORRESPONDENT BY FREDERICK LOCKER THE glow and the glory are plighted To darkness, for evening is come; The lamp in Glebe Cottage is lighted, The birds and the sheep-bells are dumb. I'm alone, for the others have flitted To dine with a neighbor at Kew; Alone, but I'm not to be pitied, I'm thinking of you I I wish you were here! Were I duller Than dull, you'd be dearer than dear; I'm drest in your favorite color, Dear Fred, how I wish you were here! I'm wearing my lazuli necklace, The necklace you fasten'd askew; Was there ever so rude or so reckless A darling as you? I want you to come and pass sentence On two or three books with a plot: Of course you know "Janet's Repentance"? I'm reading Sir Waverley Scott. That story of Edgar and Lucy, How thrilling, romantic, and true I The Master (his bride was a goosey!) Reminds me of you. They tell me Cockaigne has been crowning A Poet whose garland endures; It was you that first told me of Browning, That stupid old Browning of yours! His vogue and his verve are alarming, I'm anxious to give him his due, But, Fred, he's not nearly so charming A poet as you ! I heard how you shot at The Beeches, I saw how you rode Chanticleer, I have read the report of your speeches, And echoed the echoing cheer. There's a whisper of hearts you are breaking, Dear Fred, I believe it, I do ! Small marvel that Folly is making Her idol of you. 116 Alas for the world, and its dearly Bought triumph, its fugitive bliss; Sometimes I half wish I were merely A plain or a penniless miss; But, perhaps, one is blest with " a measure Of pelf," and I'm not sorry, too, That I'm pretty, because 'tis a pleasure, My dearest, to you ! Your whim is for frolic and fashion, Your taste is for letters and art: This rhyme is the commonplace passion That glows in a fond woman's heart; Lay it by in some sacred deposit For relics, we all have a few! Love, some day they'll print it, because it Was written to you. 117 WHICH? " HARVARD LAMPOON " BLONDE or brunette? Shall Ethel fair, My winter girl, with golden hair, Or Maud, whose dark brown eyes bewitch, My summer girl, now govern? Which? Shall cold Bostonianism rule? Shall Love teach Browning in his school? Or shall coy glances, passion-rich, Compel my fond allegiance? Which? And yet the solving's really clear, For winter's gone and summer's here. I want no statue in a niche, So Cupid says, " Let Maud be 1 Which I'" Which? THE WANDERER BY AUSTIN DOB SON LOVE comes back to his vacant dwelling, The old, old Love that we knew of yore! We see him stand by the open door, With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling. He makes as though, in our arms repelling, He fain would lie as he lay before; Love comes back to his vacant dwelling, The old, old Love that we knew of yore ! Ah, who shall help us from overspelling That sweet, forgotten, forbidden lore! E'en as we doubt in our heart once more, With a rush of tears to our eyelids welling, Love comes back to his vacant dwelling. 119 NO JEWELL'D BEAUTY BY GERALD MASSEY No jewell'd beauty is my love; Yet in her earnest face There's such a world of tenderness, She needs no other grace. Her smiles and voice around my life In light and music twine, And dear, O very dear to me, Is this sweet Love of mine. O joy ! to know there's one fond heart Beats ever true to me: It sets mine leaping like a lyre, In sweetest melody. My soul up-springs, a Deity, To hear her voice divine! And dear, O very dear to me, Is this sweet Love of mine. If ever I have sigh'd for wealth, 'Twas all for her, I trow; 1 20 And if I win Fame's victor-wreath, I'll twine it on her brow. There may be forms more beautiful, And souls of sunnier shine; But none, O none so dear to me, As this sweet Love of mine. 121 WHEN SHE COMES HOME BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY WHEN she comes home again! A thousand ways I fashion, to myself, the tenderness Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble yes; And touch her, as when first in the old days I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise Mine eyes, such was my faint heart's sweet distress. Then silence: and the perfume of her dress: The room will sway a little, and a haze Cloy eyesight soulsight, even for a space; And tears yes; and the ache here in the throat, To know that I so ill deserve the place lake for me ; and the sobbing note th kisses, ere the tearful face hidden in the old embrace. From LOVE LYRICS, by James Whitcomb Riley. Copyright, 1898. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. TRUE WOMAN HER HEAVEN BY D. G. ROSSETTI IF to grow old in Heaven is to grow young (As the Seer saw and said), then blest were he With you for evermore, whose heaven should be True Woman, she whom these weak notes have sung Here and hereafter, choir-strains of her tongue, Sky-spaces of her eyes, sweet signs that flee About her soul's immediate sanctuary, Were Paradise all uttermost worlds among. The sunrise blooms and withers on the hill Like any hillflower; and the noblest troth Dies here to dust. Yet shall Heaven's promise clothe Even yet those lovers who have cherished still This test for love : in every kiss sealed fast To feel the first kiss and forebode the last. 123 OH, NO NOT E'EN WHEN FIRST WE LOVED BY THOMAS MOORE OH, no not e'en when first we loved, Wert thou as dear as now thou art; Thy beauty then my senses moved, But now thy virtues bind my heart. What was but Passion's sigh before, Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow; And, though I then might lov thee more, Trust me, I love thee better now. Although my heart in earlier youth Might kindle with more wild desire, Believe me, it has gain'd in truth Much more than it has lost in fire. The flame now warms my inmost core That then but sparkled o'er my brow, And, though I seem'd to love thee more, Yet, oh, I love thee better now. AMONG THE HEATHER BY GEORGE ARNOLD WINTRY winds are blowing cold On the moors of purple heather, Where in summer days of old Hand in hand we idly strolled, Thou and I together. But those sunny days are past, And no more we walk together Where the snow, on every blast, Whirls above the heather. On the dreary moorland now In the storm 1 wander, lonely, Longing love alone knows how For thy kiss on lips and brow, Longing for thee only : Life can bring me nought but pain Till among the purple heather Hand in hand we walk again, Thou and I together! 125 THEY KNOW NOT MY HEART BY THOMAS MOORE THEY know not my heart, who believe there can be One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee; Who think, while I see thee in beauty's young hour, As pure as the morning's first dew on the flower, I could harm what I love, as the sun's wanton ray But smiles on the dew-drop to waste it away. No beaming with light as those young features are, There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far: It is not that cheek 'tis the soul dawning clear Thro' its innocent blush makes more, because Heaven HOW MANY TIMES BY THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES How many times do I love thee, dear? Tell me how many thoughts there be In the atmosphere Of a new-fallen year, Whose white and sable hours appear The latest flake of Eternity: So many times do I love thee, dear. How many times do I love, again? Tell me how many beads there are In a silver chain Of the evening rain, Unraveled from the tumbling main, And threading the eye of a yellow star: So many times do I love, again. 127 FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER BY LORD BYRON FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal availed on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. 'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh; Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word Farewell! Farewell! These lips are mute, these eyes are dry; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns, nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel: I only know we loved in vain I only feel Farewell ! Farewell 1 J i A 000 045 531 V.