I Doris. SAT with Doris, the shepherd maiden: Her crook was laden with wreathèd flowers; I sat and wooed her through sunlight wheeling, And shadows stealing, for hours and hours. And she, my Doris, whose lap encloses Wild summer roses of rare perfume, The while I sued her, kept hushed, and hearkened She touched my shoulder with fearful finger : I answered bolder, "Nay, let me hear you, She whispered, sighing: "There will be sorrow Said I, replying: "If they do miss you, They ought to kiss you when you get home; And well rewarded by friends and neighbor Should be the labor from which you come." "They might remember," she answered meekly, Then each hot ember glowed quick within me, "Ah! do but prove me, and none shall blind you She blushed and started, and stood awaiting, But I did brave them— I told her plainly So we twin-hearted, from all the valley That simple duty fresh grace did lend her And now in beauty she fills my dwelling- ARTHUR MUNBY. Hero to Leander. OH, go not yet, my love, The night is dark and vast; The white moon is hid in her heaven above, And the waves climb high and fast. Oh, kiss me, kiss me, once again, Lest thy kiss should be the last. Oh, kiss me ere we part; Grow closer to my heart. My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the main. HERO TO LEANDER. O joy! O bliss of blisses! My heart of hearts art thou. Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs, Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh; Thy locks are dripping balm; Thou shalt not wander hence to-night, I'll stay thee with my kisses. To-night the roaring brine Will rend thy golden tresses; The ocean with the morrow light Will be both blue and calm; 49 And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as soft as mine. No Western odors wander On the black and moaning sea, Oh, go not yet, my love, Thy voice is sweet and low; Those marble steps below. The turret stairs are wet That lead into the sea. Leander! go not yet. Oh, go not, go not yet, Or I will follow thee. ALFRED TENNYSON. 'T Ailleen. IS not for love of gold I go, 'Tis not for love of fame; Though Fortune should her smile bestow, And I may win a name, Ailleen, And I may win a name. And yet it is for gold I go, And yet it is for fame, That they may deck another brow, And bless another name, Ailleen, And bless another name. For this, but this, I go― for this Of thy young, faithful smile. And I go to brave a world I hate, Ailleen, Upon a stranger shore. Oh, when the bays are all my own, I know a heart will care! Oh, when the gold is wooed and won, Ailleen, I know a brow shall wear! B A Woman's Question. EFORE I trust my fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy Future give Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me. I break all slighter bonds, nor feel A shadow of regret : Is there one link within the Past That holds thy spirit yet? Or is thy Faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee? Does there within thy dimmest dreams A possible future shine, ! Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, Untouched, unshared by mine? If so, at any pain or cost, oh, tell me before all is lost. Look deeper still. If thou canst feel Within thy inmost soul, That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole : Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so. |