MADELINE. THOU art not steep'd in golden languors, Ever varying Madeline. Smiling, frowning, evermore, Whether smile or frown be sweeter, Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow Like little clouds sun-fringed, are thine, Thy smile and frown are not aloof Each to each is dearest brother; Hues of the silken sheeny woof Momently shot into each other. All the mystery is thine ; Smiling, frowning, evermore, Thou art perfect in love-lore, Ever varying Madeline. A subtle, sudden flame, By veering passion fann'd, About thee breaks and dances; When I would kiss thy hand, The flush of anger'd shame O'erflows thy calmer glances, And o'er black brows drops down A sudden-curved frown: But when I turn away, Thou, willing me to stay, Wooest not, nor vainly wranglest; But, looking fixedly the while, All my bounding heart entanglest In a golden-netted smile; Then in madness and in bliss, If my lips should dare to kiss Thy taper fingers amorously, Again thou blushest angerly; And o'er black brows drops down A sudden-curved frown. SONG. THE OWL. WHEN cats run home and light is come, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, When merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay, Twice or thrice his roundelay : Alone and warming his five wits, The white owl in the belfry sits. SECOND SONG. TO THE SAME. THY tuwhits are lull'd I wot, Thy tuwhoos of yesternight, Which upon the dark afloat, So took echo with delight, So took echo with delight, That her voice untuneful grown, I would mock thy chaunt anew; But I cannot mimick it ; Not a whit of thy tuwhoo, Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, With a lengthen'd loud halloo, Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o. |