Know ye, O sons of men, the maid who dwells Between the two seas at the Dardanelles ? Her face hath charm'd away the change of years, And all the world is filled with her spells. No task is hers forever, but the play She laughs the long eternity away. The chains about her neck are manypearl'd, Rare gems are those round which her hair is curl'd; She hath all flesh for captive, and for spoil, The fruit of all the labor of the world. She getteth up and maketh herself bare, And letteth down the wonder of her hair Before the sun; the heavy golden locks Fall in the hollow of her shoulders fair. She taketh from the lands, as she may please, All jewels, and all corals from the seas; She layeth them in rows upon the rocks; Laugheth, and bringeth fairer ones than these. IF SHE BUT KNEW If she but knew that I am weeping That love and sorrow grow with keeping My heart that breaking will adore her, Be hers and die ; 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, Could she content herself with sighing? Still wilder wax'd the tune; until at length The strong strings, strain'd by sudden stress and sharp Of that musician's hand intolerable, The Rose Already my flush'd heart grows faint with bliss ; Love, I have long'd for you through all the night. The Wind And I to kiss your petals warm and bright. Laugh round me, Love, and kiss me; it is And jarr'd by sweep of unrelenting strength, Nay, have no fear, the Lily will not tell. Sunder'd, and all the broken music fell. Such was Love's music, — lo, the shatter'd harp! THE ROSE AND THE WIND DAWN The Rose WHEN, think you, comes the Wind, The Wind that kisses me and is so kind? Lo, how the Lily sleeps! her sleep is light; MORNING The Rose 'Twas dawn when first you came; and now the sun Shines brightly and the dews of dawn are 'Tis well you take me so in your embrace; Would I were like the Lily, pale and Nay, you must wake, Love, from this child white! Will the Wind come? The Beech Perchance for you too soon. If not, how could I live until the noon? Why comes he not at breaking of the day? The Beech Hush, child, and, like the Lily, go to sleep. My buds are blind with leaves, they cannot |