She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Wind of the summer night! Where yonder woodbine creeps, Fold, fold thy pinions light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps! Dreams of the summer night! Watch! while in slumbers light She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [1807-1882] "COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD" From "Maud " COME into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die. All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirred Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon. "Come Into the Garden, Maud" 707 I said to the lily, "There is but one Low on the sand and loud on the stone I said to the rose, "The brief night goes O young lord-lover, what sighs are those, But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose, And the soul of the rose went into my blood, As the music clashed in the hall: And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all; From the meadow your walks have left so sweet He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, The slender acacia would not shake The lilies and roses were all awake, They sighed for the dawn and thee. Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near";' And the lily whispers, "I wait." She is coming, my own, my sweet; Would start and tremble under her feet, Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892] Bedouin Song Soon the wan, the wistful stars, Let this friendly pebble plead Mabel will be decked anon, Zoned in bride's apparel; Happy zone! Oh hark to yon Passion-shaken carol! Sing thy song, thou tranced thrush, Hush, her lattice moves, oh hush— Dearest Mabel !---dearest. 709 Frederick Locker-Lampson [1821-1895] BEDOUIN SONG FROM the Desert I come to thee In the speed of my desire. And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Look from thy window and see My passion and my pain; I lie on the sands below, Let the night-winds touch thy brow Of a love that shall not die And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment My steps are nightly driven, By the fever in my breast, To hear from thy lattice breathed And open thy chamber door, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold! Bayard Taylor [1825-1878] NIGHT AND LOVE From "Ernest Maltravers" WHEN stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; As stars look on the sea! For thoughts, like waves that glide by night, Mine earthly love lies hushed in light There is an hour when angels keep Familiar watch o'er men, When coarser souls are wrapped in sleep— |