89 To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, THE INDIAN SERENADE I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, The wandering airs, they faint O! beloved as thou art! Oh lift me from the grass! John Keats Percy Bysshe Shelley 90 ΟΝΕ NE word is too often profaned One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, I can give not what men call love, The desire of the moth for the star, Percy Bysshe Shelley M USIC, when soft voices die, Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Percy Bysshe Shelley 92 MAUD1 I B IRDS in the high Hall-garden Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud, They were crying and calling. Where was Maud? in our wood; Myriads blow together. Birds in our woods sang Maud is here, here, here I kissed her slender hand, Maud is not seventeen, But she is tall and stately. I to cry out on pride Who have won her favor! I know the way she went Home with her maiden posy, For her feet have touched the meadows And left the daisies rosy. 1 Lyrics from Maud: A Monodrama. Birds in the high Hall-garden One is come to woo her. Look, a horse at the door, And little King Charley snarling! Go back, my lord, across the moor, You are not her darling. II IVULET crossing my ground, RIVULET And bringing me down from the Hall This garden-rose that I found, Forgetful of Maud and me, And lost in trouble and moving round And trying to pass to the sea; O rivulet, born at the Hall, My Maud has sent it by thee— If I read her sweet will right On a blushing mission to me, Saying in odor and color, "Ah be Among the roses to-night." III OME into the garden, Maud, COM 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 roses 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 that she loves, To faint in its light, and to die. All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirred 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 But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose, And the soul of the rose went into my blood, And long by the garden lake I stood, |