My lady's name, if I hear strangers use,--
Not meaning her--seems like a lax misuse.
I love none by my lady's name;
Rose, Maud, or Grace, are all the same,
So blank, so very tame.
My lady walks as I have seen a swan
Swim thro' the water just where the sun shone.
There ends of willow branches ride,
Quivering with the current's glide,
By the deep river-side.
Whene'er she moves there are fresh beauties stirred;
As the sunned bosom of a humming-bird
At each pant shows some fiery hue,
Burns gold, intensest green or blue:
The same, yet ever new.
What time she walketh under flowering May,
I am quite sure the scented blossoms say,
"O lady with the sunlit hair!
"Stay, and drink our odorous air--
"The incense that we bear:
"Your beauty, lady, we would ever shade;
"Being near you, our sweetness might not fade."
If trees could be broken-hearted,
I am sure that the green sap smarted,
When my lady parted.
This is why I thought weeds were beautiful;--
Because one day I saw my lady pull
Some weeds up near a little brook,
Which home most carefully she took,
Then shut them in a book.
A deer when startled by the stealthy ounce,--
A bird escaping from the falcon's trounce,
Feels his heart swell as mine, when she
Stands statelier, expecting me,
Than tall white lilies be.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70