Let us go hence and rest; she will not love. Nor see love's ways how sore they are and steep. Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep; And though she saw all heaven in flower above, Let us give up, go down; she will not care. Let us go hence, go hence; she will not see. She too, remembering days and words that were, Will turn a little towards us, sighing; but we, We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not been there. Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me, She would not see. Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909] A LYRIC THERE'S nae lark loves the lift, my dear, The whin shines fair upon the fell, The muirside wind is merry at heart: Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909] A Love Symphony 647 MAUREEN O, YOU plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes, Girl of my choice, Maureen! Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies, Maureen? Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo, White rose of the West, Maureen: For it's pale you are, and the fear that's on you is over me too, Maureen! Sure it's one complaint that's on us, asthore, this day, Bride of my dreams, Maureen: The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say, Maureen! I'll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face, Mavourneen, my own Maureen! When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm's embrace, Maureen! O where was the King o' the World that day-only me? My one true love, Maureen! And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree, Maureen! John Todhunter [1839 A LOVE SYMPHONY ALONG the garden ways just now The white rose told me of your brow, The lily of your bended head, The bindweed of your hair; I went into the wood anon, And heard the wild birds sing, And still began again because You were more sweet. And then I went down to the sea, And heard it murmuring too, Arthur O'Shaughnessy [1844-1881 LOVE ON THE MOUNTAIN My love comes down from the mountain I look, and the star of the morning My love comes down from the mountain, At dawn, dewy sweet; Did you step from the star to the mountain, O little white feet? O whence came your twining tresses And your shining eyes, But out of the gold of the morning And the blue of the skies? My Queen The misty mountain is burning And the heart in my breast is burning And lost in desire. I follow you into the valley But no word can I say; To the East or the West I will follow Till the dusk of my day. Thomas Boyd (1867 649 KATE TEMPLE'S SONG ONLY a touch, and nothing more: Either is easy to understand. Earth may be smitten with fire or frost Never the touch of true love lost. Only a word, was it? Scarce a word! Musical whisper, softly heard, Syllabled nothing-just a breath-- 'Twill outlast life and 'twill laugh at death. Love with so little can do so much Only a word, sweet! Only a touch! Mortimer Collins [1827-1876] MY QUEEN WHEN and how shall I earliest meet her? Whether her hair be golden or raven, Whether her eyes be hazel or blue, I will not dream of her tall and stately, Or that sweet calm which is just between; But she must be courteous, she must be holy, I care no more than the spirits above. Unknown "DARLING, TELL ME YES" ONE little minute more, Maud, And do I rightly guess O darling! tell me yes! |