A Jongleur Strayed | Page 5

thee,?Asking no blessedness beyond?Thy face from morn till night to see,?Ensorcelled past all remedy;?Even as those foolish bees am I,?Though well I know my destiny--?To taste that honey is to die.
O'er such a doom shall I despond??I would not from thy snare go free,?Release me not from thy sweet bond,?I live but in thy mystery;?Though all my senses from me flee,?I still would glut my glazing eye,?Thou nectar of mortality--?To taste that honey is to die.
ENVOI
Princess, before I cease to be,?Bend o'er my lips so burning dry?Thy honeycombs of ivory--?To taste that honey is to die.
BROKEN TRYST
Waiting in the woodland, watching for my sweet,?Thinking every leaf that stirs the coming of her feet,?Thinking every whisper the rustle of her gown,?How my heart goes up and up, and then goes down and down.
First it is a squirrel, then it is a dove,?Then a red fox feather-soft and footed like a dream;?All the woodland fools me, promising my love;?I think I hear her talking--'tis but the running stream.
Vowelled talking water, mimicking her voice--?O how she promised she'd surely come to-day!?There she comes! she comes at last! O heart of mine rejoice-- Nothing but a flight of birds winging on their way.
Lonely grows the afternoon, empty grows the world;?Day's bright banners in the west one by one are furled,?Sadly sinks the lingering sun that like a lover rose,?One by one each woodland thing loses heart and goes.
Back along the woodland, all the day is dead,?All the green has turned to gray, and all the gold to lead; O 'tis bitter cruel, sweet, to treat a lover so:?If only I were half a man . . . I'd let the baggage go.
THE RIVAL
She failed me at the tryst:?All the long afternoon?The golden day went by,?Until the rising moon;?But, as I waited on,?Turning my eyes about,?Aching for sight of her,?Until the stars came out,--?Maybe 'twas but a dream--?There close against my face,?"Beauty am I," said one,?"I come to take her place."
And then I understood?Why, all the waiting through,?The green had seemed so green,?The blue had seemed so blue,?The song of bird and stream?Had been so passing sweet,?For all the coming not?Of her forgetful feet;?And how my heart was tranced,?For all its lonely ache,?Gazing on mirrored rushes?Sky-deep in the lake.?Said Beauty: "Me you love,?You love her for my sake."
THE QUARREL
Thou shall not me persuade?This love of ours?Can in a moment fade,?Like summer flowers;
That a swift word or two,?In angry haste,?Our heaven shall undo,?Our hearts lay waste.
For a poor flash of pride,?A cold word spoken,?Love shall not be denied,?Or long troth broken.
Yea; wilt thou not relent??Be mine the wrong,?No more the argument,?Dear love, prolong.
The summer days go by,?Cease that sweet rain,?Those angry crystals dry,?Be friends again.
So short a time at best?Is ours to play,?Come, take me to thy breast--?Ah! that's the way.
LOVERS
Why should I ask perfection of thee, sweet,?That have so little of mine own to bring??That thou art beautiful from head to feet--?Is that, beloved, such a little thing,?That I should ask more of thee, and should fling?Thy largesse from me, in a world like this,?O generous giver of thy perfect kiss?
Thou gavest me thy lips, thine eyes, thine hair;?I brought thee worship--was it not thy due??If thou art cruel--still art thou not fair??Roses thou gavest--shalt thou not bring rue??Alas! have I not brought thee sorrow too??How dare I face the future and its drouth,?Missing that golden honeycomb thy mouth?
Kiss and make up--'tis the wise ancient way;?Back to my arms, O bountiful deep breast!?No more of words that know not what they say;?To kiss is wisdom--folly all the rest.?Dear loveliness so mercifully pressed?Against my heart--I shake with sudden fear?To think--to losing thee I came so near.
SHADOWS
Shadows! the only shadows that I know?Are happy shadows of the light of you,?The radiance immortal shining through?Your sea-deep eyes up from the soul below;?Your shadow, like a rose's, on the grass?Where your feet pass.
The shadow of the dimple in your chin,?The shadow of the lashes of your eyes,?As on your cheek, soft as a moth, it lies;?And, as a church, I softly enter in?The solemn twilight of your mighty hair,?Down falling there.
These are Love's shadows, Love knows none but these:?Shadows that are the very soul of light,?As morning and the morning blossom bright,?Or jewelled shadows of moon-haunted seas;?The darkest shadows in this world of ours?Are made of flowers.
AFTER TIBULLUS
Illius est nobis lege colendus amor
On her own terms, O lover, must thou take?The heart's beloved: be she kind, 'tis well,?Cruel, expect no more; not for thy sake?But for the fire in thee that melts her snows?For a brief spell?She loves thee--"loves" thee! Though thy heart should break, Though thou shouldst lie athirst for her in hell,?She could not pity thee: who of the Rose,?Or of the Moon, asks pity, or return
Of love for love? and she is even as those.?Beauty is