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May Margaret

IIII

And my prayer goes up, "Oh, give us, crowned in youth with

marriage glory,

Give for all our life's dear story,

Give us love, and give us peace!"

Jean Ingelow [1820-1897]

A BIRTHDAY

My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a watered shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;

Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

IF

Christina Georgina Rossetti [1830-1894]

MAY MARGARET

you be that May Margaret That lived on Kendal Green, Then where's that sunny hair of

yours

That crowned you like a queen?

That sunny hair is dim, lad,

They said was like a crown—
The red gold turned to gray, lad,
The night a ship went down.

If you be yet May Margaret,
May Margaret now as then,
Then where's that bonny smile of yours
That broke the hearts of men?

The bonny smile is wan, lad,
That once was glad as day—
And oh! 'tis weary smiling
To keep the tears away.

If you be that May Margaret,
As yet you swear to me,

Then where's that proud, cold heart of yours
That sent your love to sea?
Ah, me! that heart is broken,

The proud, cold heart has bled
For one light word outspoken,
For all the love unsaid.

Then Margaret, my Margaret,
If all you say be true,

Your hair is yet the sunniest gold,
Your eyes the sweetest blue.

And dearer yet and fairer yet

For all the coming years—

The fairer for the waiting,

The dearer for the tears!

Théophile Marzials [1850–

RONDEL

KISSING her hair, I sat against her feet,

Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet; Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes, Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies; With her own tresses bound and found her fair, Kissing her hair.

Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me,
Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea;
What pain could get between my face and hers?
What new sweet thing would love not relish worse?
Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there,
Kissing her hair.

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

The Brookside

"I LOVE MY LOVE"

WHAT is the meaning of the song
That rings so clear and loud,
Thou nightingale amid the copse,

Thou lark above the cloud?

What says thy song, thou joyous thrush,
Up in the walnut-tree?

"I love my Love, because I know
My Love loves me."

What is the meaning of thy thought,
O maiden fair and young?

There is such pleasure in thine eyes,
Such music on thy tongue;
There is such glory on thy face-
What can the meaning be?
"I love my Love, because I know
My Love loves me."

O happy words! at Beauty's feet
We sing them ere our prime;
And when the early summers pass,

And Care comes on with Time,
Still be it ours, in Care's despite,
To join the chorus free-

"I love my Love, because I know,
My Love loves me."

1113

Charles Mackay [1814-1889]

THE BROOKSIDE

I WANDERED by the brookside,

I wandered by the mill;

I could not hear the brook flow,

The noisy wheel was still;

There was no burr of grasshopper,

No chirp of any bird,

But the beating of my own heart

Was all the sound I heard.

I sat beneath the elm-tree;
I watched the long, long shade,
And, as it grew still longer,
I did not feel afraid;
For I listened for a footfall,

I listened 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,

The little stars sat, one by one,

Each on his golden throne;

The evening wind passed by my cheek,
The leaves above were stirred,-

But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I 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.

Richard Monckton Milnes [1809-1885]

THE WORLD IS MINE

FOR me the jasmine buds unfold

And silver daisies star the lea,

The crocus hoards the sunset gold,

And the wild rose breathes for me.

I feel the sap through the bough returning,

I share the skylark's transport fine,

I know the fountain's wayward yearning;

I love, and the world is mine!

What My Lover Said

I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved, Still well remembered, grieve not me;

From all that darkened and deceived Upsoars my spirit free.

For soft the hours repeat one story, Sings the sea one strain divine,

My clouds arise all flushed with glory;

I love, and the world is mine!

Florence Earle Coates [1850

1115

WHAT MY LOVER SAID

By the merest chance, in the twilight gloom,
In the orchard path he met me;

In the tall, wet grass, with its faint perfume,
And I tried to pass, but he made no room,

Oh, I tried, but he would not let me.
So I stood and blushed till the grass grew red,
With my face bent down above it,

While he took my hand as he whispering said—
(How the clover lifted each pink, sweet head,
To listen to all that my lover said;

Oh, the clover in bloom, I love it!)

In the high, wet grass went the path to hide,
And the low, wet leaves hung over;

But I could not pass upon either side,
For I found myself, when I vainly tried,

In the arms of my steadfast lover.
And he held me there and he raised my head,
While he closed the path before me,

And he looked down into my eyes and said-
(How the leaves bent down from the boughs o'erhead
To listen to all that my lover said,

Oh, the leaves hanging lowly o'er me!)

Had he moved aside but a little way,

I could surely then have passed him;

And he knew I never could wish to stay,
And would not have heard what he had to say,

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