LXXXIII.

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth,
My old sorrow wakes and cries,

For I know there is dawn in the far, far north,
And a scarlet sun doth rise;

Like a scarlet fleece the snow-field spreads,

And the icy founts run free,

And the bergs begin to bow their heads,
And plunge and sail in the sea.

Oh, my lost love, and my own, own love,
And my love that loved me so!

Is there never a chink in the world above
Where they listen for words from below?
Nay, I spoke once, and I grieved thee sore,
I remember all that I said,

And now thou wilt hear me no more-no more
Till the sea gives up her dead.

Thou didst set thy foot on the ship, and sail
To the icefields and the snow;

Thou wert sad, for thy love did nought avail,
And the end I could not know.

How could I tell I should love thee to-day,
Whom that day I held not dear?

How could I know I should love thee away
When I did not love thee anear?

We shall walk no more thro' the sodden plain
With the faded bents o'erspread,

We shall stand no more by the seething main
While the dark wrack drives o'erhead;

We shall part no more in the wind and the rain,
Where thy last farewell was said;

But perhaps I shall meet thee and know thee again When the sea gives up her dead.

Miss Ingelow.

LXXXIV.

O the wind and the rain they blow, love,
And the leaves keep rustling down,

And soon will be buried, 'neath winter's snow
The blossom of summer's crown.

O the wind and the rain they blow, love,
And carry away in their blight

The last pale leaf from the dim hedgerow,
That was born of summer's light.

O the wind and the rain they blow, love,
And, lost in the gathering storm,
Fades the last flush of a happy glow
That had kept my sad heart warm.

O the wind and the rain will cease, love,
New leaves will shadow the lane,
But death eternal alone brings peace
To a heart that has loved in vain.

Mrs. Steele.

LXXXV.

There is no one beside thee and no one above thee,
Thou standest alone as the nightingale sings!

And my words that would praise thee are impotent things, For none can express thee though all should approve thee, I love thee so, Dear, that I only can love thee.

Say, what can I do for thee? weary thee, grieve thee?
Lean on thy shoulder new burdens to add?
Weep my tears over thee, making thee sad?
Oh, hold me not-love me not! let me retrieve thee,
I love thee so, Dear, that I only can leave thee.

Mrs. Browning.

LXXXVI.

There's nothing half so sweet in Life
As Love's young dream.

Yet, O fair cousin, do not deem
That all is false which poets tell,
Of Passion's first and dearest dream,
Of haunted spot and silent spell;
Of long low musing, such as suits

The terrace on your own dark hill,
Of whispers which are sweet as lutes,
And silence which is sweeter still;
Believe, believe,-for May shall pass,

And summer sun and winter shower
Shall dim the freshness of the grass,
And mar the fragrance of the flower,—
Believe it all, whate'er you hear

Of plighted vow, and treasured token,
And hues which only once appear,

And words which only once are spoken, And prayers whose natural voice is song, And schemes that die in wild endeavour, And tears so pleasant, you will long

Το weep such pleasant tears for ever: Believe it all, believe it all!

Oh! Virtue's frown is all divine: And folly hides his happy thrall

In snares as cold and false as mine;
And Reason prates of wrong and right,
And marvels hearts can break or bleed,
And flings on all that's warm and bright
The winter of his icy creed;

But when the soul has ceased to glow,
And years and cares are coming fast,
There's nothing like young love! no, no!
There's nothing like young love at last!

W. M. Praed.

LXXXVII.

LOVE AND HOPE.

At morn beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclin'd;

But scarce had noon-tide come, when he
Into his bark leapt smilingly,

66

And left poor Hope behind.

"I go," said Love, to sail awhile
Across this sunny main ;"

And then so sweet his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dreamt of guile,
Believed he'd come again.

She lingered there till evening's beam
Along the waters lay;

And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft traced his name, which still the stream
As often washed away.

At length a sail appears in sight,

And tow'rd the maiden moves!

"Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright, His golden bark reflects the light,

But ah! it is not Love's.

Another sail-'twas Friendship showed
Her night-lamp o'er the sea;
And calm the light that lamp bestowed;
But Love had lights that warmer glowed,
And where, alas! was he?

Now fast around the sea and shore

Night threw her darkling chain;

The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope's morning dreams of bliss were o'er,-
Love never came again.

T. Moore.

LXXXVIII.

A DENIAL.

We have met late-it is too late to meet,
O friend, not more than friend!

Death's forecome shroud is tangled round my feet,
And if I step or stir, I touch the end.

In this last jeopardy

Can I approach thee, I, who cannot move?
How shall I answer thy request for love?
Look in my face and see.

I love thee not. I dare not love thee! go
In silence; drop my hand.

If thou seek roses, seek them where they blow
In garden-alleys, not in desert-sand.

Can life and death agree,

That thou should'st stoop thy song to my complaint? I cannot love thee. If the word is faint,

Look in my face and see.

I might have loved thee in some former days,
Oh, then, my spirits had leapt

As now they sink, at hearing thy love-praise.
Before these faded cheeks were overwept,

Had this been asked of me,

To love thee with my whole strong heart and head,— I should have said still-yes, but smiled and said, Look in my face and see!'

Meantime I bless thee.

By these thoughts of mine

I bless thee from all such!

I bless thy lamp to oil, thy cup to wine,
Thy hearth to joy, thy hand to an equal touch
Of loyal troth. For me,

I love thee not, I love thee not!-away!
soul to say

Here's no more courage in my 'Look in my face and see.'

Mrs. Browning.