Brows, hands, and lips, heart, mind, and voice, Kisses and words of Love-Lily, Oh! bid me with your joy rejoice, Till riotous longing rest in me! Ah! let not hope be still distraught, But find in her its gracious goal, Whose speech Truth knows not from her thought Nor Love her body from her soul. DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. I. IVE her but a least excuse to love me! When-where How can this arm establish her above me, There already, to eternally reprove me? But "Oh," cried the maiden, binding her tresses, "Tis only a page that carols unseen, Crumbling your hounds their messes!") II. Is she wronged?—To the rescue of her honour, Is she poor? What costs it to become a donor ? But that fortune should have thrust all this upon her! Fitting your hawks their jesses!") ROBERT BROWNING. THE OBLATION. 3SK nothing more of me, sweet ; Heart of my heart, were it more, Love that should help you to live, All things were nothing to give Touch you and taste of you sweet, I that have love and no more, ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. HE bee to the heather, The roe to the greenwood, And whither shall I? Oh, Alice! ah, Alice! So sweet to the bee Are the moorland and heather By Cannock and Leigh! Oh, Alice! ah, Alice! O'er Teddesley Park The sunny sky scatters Oh, Alice! ah, Alice! The roes toss their antlers But Alice, dear Alice! Glade, moorland, nor sky Without you can content me, And whither shall I ? SIR HENRY TAYLOR. A DAISY CHAIN. HE white rose decks the breast of May, Yet autumn chills and winter kills And leaves their stems alone; Ah, swiftly dies the garden's pride But my love she is the daisy That all the long year grows. The early woods are gay with green, The blue-bell hangs her shining head, No more the oxslip blows,But my love she is the daisy That all the long year grows. |