The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 116

With naught of true thou wilt me greet.

And Thou that men call by my name!

O helpless One! hast thou no shame That thou must even look the same As while agone, as while agone When Thou and She were left alone, And hands and lips and tears did meet?

Grow weak and pine, lie down to die, O body! in thy misery, Because short time and sweet goes by.

O foolish heart! how weak thou art: Break, break, because thou needs must part From thine own Love, from thine own Sweet!

William Morris [1834-1896]

AT PARTING

For a day and a night Love sang to us, played with us, Folded us round from the dark and the light; And our hearts were fulfilled of the music he made with us, Made with our hearts and our lips while he stayed with us, Stayed in mid pa.s.sage his pinions from flight For a day and a night.

From his foes that kept watch with his wings had he hidden us, Covered us close from the eyes that would smite, From the feet that had tracked and the tongues that had chidden us Sheltering in shade of the myrtles forbidden us Spirit and flesh growing one with delight For a day and a night.

But his wings will not rest and his feet will not stay for us: Morning is here in the joy of its might; With his breath has he sweetened a night and a day for us: Now let him pa.s.s, and the myrtles make way for us; Love can but last in us here at his height For a day and a night.

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

"IF SHE BUT KNEW"

If she but knew that I am weeping Still for her sake, That love and sorrow grow with keeping Till they must break, My heart that breaking will adore her, Be hers and die; If she might hear me once implore her, Would she not sigh?

If she but knew that it would save me Her voice to hear, Saying she pitied me, forgave me, Must she forbear?

If she were told that I was dying, Would she be dumb?

Could she content herself with sighing?

Would she not come?

Arthur O'Shaughnessy [1844-1881]

KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN

Kathleen Mavourneen! the gray dawn is breaking, The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill; The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking,-- Kathleen Mavourneen! what, slumbering still?

Oh, hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?

Oh! hast thou forgotten this day we must part?

It may be for years, and it may be forever!

Oh, why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?

Oh! why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?

Kathleen Mavourneen, awake from thy slumbers!

The blue mountains glow in the sun's golden light; Ah, where is the spell that once hung on my numbers?

Arise in thy beauty, thou star of my night!

Mavourneen, Mavourneen, my sad tears are falling, To think that from Erin and thee I must part!

It may be for years, and it may be forever!

Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?

Then why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?

Louisa Macartney Crawford [1790-1858]

ROBIN ADAIR

What's this dull town to me?

Robin's not near,-- He whom I wished to see, Wished for to hear; Where's all the joy and mirth Made life a heaven on earth?

O, they're all fled with thee, Robin Adair!

What made the a.s.sembly s.h.i.+ne?

Robin Adair: What made the ball so fine?

Robin was there: What, when the play was o'er, What made my heart so sore?

O, it was parting with Robin Adair!

But now thou art far from me, Robin Adair; But now I never see Robin Adair; Yet him I loved so well Still in my heart shall dwell; O, I can ne'er forget Robin Adair!

Welcome on sh.o.r.e again, Robin Adair!

Welcome once more again, Robin Adair!

I feel thy trembling hand; Tears in thy eyelids stand, To greet thy native land, Robin Adair!

Long I ne'er saw thee, love, Robin Adair; Still I prayed for thee, love, Robin Adair; When thou wert far at sea, Many made love to me, But still I thought on thee, Robin Adair!

Come to my heart again, Robin Adair; Never to part again, Robin Adair; And if thou still art true, I will be constant too, And will wed none but you, Robin Adair!

Caroline Keppel [1735-? ]

"IF YOU WERE HERE"

A Song In Winter

O love, if you were here This dreary, weary day,-- If your lips, warm and dear, Found some sweet word to say,-- Then hardly would seem drear These skies of wintry gray.

But you are far away,-- How far from me, my dear!

What cheer can warm the day?

My heart is chill with fear, Pierced through with swift dismay; A thought has turned Life sere:

If you, from far away, Should come not back, my dear; If I no more might lay My hand on yours, nor hear That voice, now sad, now gay, Caress my listening ear;

If you, from far away, Should come no more, my dear,-- Then with what dire dismay Year joined to hostile year Would frown, if I should stay Where memories mock and jeer!