EVENING A LREADY evening! In the duskiest nook Of yon dusk corner, under the Death's-head, For I will read no longer. The loud brook Along the warm blue hills the day declines: The first star brightens while she waits for me, And round her swelling heart the zone grows tight: Musing, half-sad, in her soft hair she twines The white rose, whispering "He will come to-night!” FIONA MACLEOD (WILLIAM SHARP) THE UNBORN CHILD C HILD of no mortal birth, that yet doth live, Where loiterest thou, O blossom of our joy? Unsummon'd hence, dost thou, knowing all, forgive? Thy rainbow-rapture, doth it never cloy? O exquisite dream, dear child of our desire, TO A FAVOURITE EVENING RETREAT O LOVED wild hill-side, that hast been a power Not less than books, greater than preacher's art, To heal my wounded spirit, and my heart, Retune to gentle thoughts, that hour on hour Must languish in the city, like a flower In wayside dust, while on the vulgar mart We squander for scant gold our better part From morn till eve, in frost, and sun, and shower! My soul breaks into singing as I haste, Day's labour ended, towards thy sylvan shrine Of rustling beech, hawthorn, and eglantine; And, wandering in thy shade, I dream of thee As of green pastures 'mid the desert waste, Wells of sweet water in the bitter sea. FIRST AND LAST KISS HY lips are quiet, and thine eyes are still; I always loved thee, though thou didst not know; LOVE'S QUEST L OVE walks with weary feet the upward way, Love without joy and led by suffering. Love's unkissed lips have now no song to sing, Love's eyes are blind and cannot see the day; Love walks in utter darkness, and I say: "O, Love, 'tis summer," or, "Behold the spring, Or, "Love, 'tis autumn, and leaves withering," And "Now it is the winter bleak and gray,” " And still Love heedeth not. "O, Love," I cry, Where the way ends, not Love himself can know. |