Riley Love-Lyrics | Page 5

a dazzling daisy-bed.--?So luminous her face and brow,?The luster of their glory, shed?In memory, even, blinds me now.
HER BEAUTIFUL EYES
O her beautiful eyes! they are blue as the dew?On the violet's bloom when the morning is new,?And the light of their love is the gleam of the sun?O'er the meadows of Spring where the quick shadows run?As the morn shifts the mists and the clouds from the skies So I stand in the dawn of her beautiful eyes.
And her beautiful eyes are as mid-day to me,?When the lily-bell bends with the weight of the bee,?And the throat of the thrush is a-pulse in the heat,?And the senses are drugged with the subtle and sweet?And delirious breaths of the air's lullabies--?So I swoon in the noon of her beautiful eyes.
O her beautiful eyes! they have smitten mine own?As a glory glanced down from the glare of the Throne;?And I reel, and I falter and fall, as afar?Fell the shepherds that looked on the mystical Star,?And yet dazed in the tidings that bade them arise--?So I groped through the night of her beautiful eyes.
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WHEN SHE COMES HOME
When she comes home again! A thousand ways?I fashion, to myself, the tenderness?Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble--yes;?And touch her, as when first in the old days?I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise?Mine eyes, such was my faint heart's sweet distress.?Then silence: And the perfume of her dress:?The room will sway a little, and a haze?Cloy eyesight--soulsight, even--for a space:?And tears--yes; and the ache here in the throat,?To know that I so ill deserve the place?Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note?I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face?Again is hidden in the old embrace.
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LET US FORGET
Let us forget. What matters it that we?Once reigned o'er happy realms of long-ago,?And talked of love, and let our voices low,?And ruled for some brief sessions royally??What if we sung, or laughed, or wept maybe??It has availed not anything, and so?Let it go by that we may better know?How poor a thing is lost to you and me.?But yesterday I kissed your lips, and yet?Did thrill you not enough to shake the dew?From your drenched lids--and missed, with no regret,?Your kiss shot back, with sharp breaths failing you:?And so, to-day, while our worn eyes are wet?With all this waste of tears, let us forget!
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LEONAINIE
Leonainie--Angels named her;?And they took the light?Of the laughing stars and framed her?In a smile of white;
And they made her hair of gloomy?Midnight, and her eyes of bloomy?Moonshine, and they brought her to me?In the solemn night.--
In a solemn night of summer,?When my heart of gloom?Blossomed up to greet the comer?Like a rose in bloom;
All forebodings that distressed me?I forgot as Joy caressed me,?(_Lying_ Joy! that caught and pressed me?In the arms of doom!)
Only spake the little lisper?In the Angel-tongue;?Yet I, listening, heard her whisper--?"Songs are only sung
Here below that they may grieve you,?Tales but told you to deceive you,--?So must Leonainie leave you?While her love is young,"
Then God smiled and it was morning?Matchless and supreme?Heaven's glory seemed adorning?Earth with its esteem:
Every heart but mine seemed gifted?With the voice of prayer, and lifted?Where my Leonainie drifted?From me like a dream.
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HER WAITING FACE
In some strange place?Of long-lost lands he finds her waiting face--?Comes marveling upon it, unaware,?Set moonwise in the midnight of her hair.
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THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW
I
As one in sorrow looks upon?The dead face of a loyal friend,?By the dim light of New Year's dawn?I saw the Old Year end.
Upon the pallid features lay?The dear old smile--so warm and bright?Ere thus its cheer had died away?In ashes of delight.
The hands that I had learned to love?With strength of passion half divine,?Were folded now, all heedless of?The emptiness of mine.
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The eyes that once had shed their bright?Sweet looks like sunshine, now were dull,?And ever lidded from the light?That made them beautiful.
II
The chimes of bells were in the air,?And sounds of mirth in hall and street,?With pealing laughter everywhere?And throb of dancing feet:
The mirth and the convivial din?Of revelers in wanton glee,?With tunes of harp and violin?In tangled harmony.
But with a sense of nameless dread,?I turned me, from the merry face?Of this newcomer, to my dead;?And, kneeling there a space,
I sobbed aloud, all tearfully:--?By this dear face so fixed and cold,?O Lord, let not this New Year be?As happy as the old!
THEIR SWEET SORROW
They meet to say farewell: Their way?Of saying this is hard to say.--?He holds her hand an instant, wholly?Distressed--and she unclasps it slowly.
He bends _his_ gaze evasively?Over the printed page that she?Recurs to, with a new-moon shoulder?Glimpsed from the lace-mists that enfold her.
The clock, beneath its crystal cup,?Discreetly clicks--_"Quick! Act! Speak up!"_?A tension circles both her slender?Wrists--and her raised eyes flash in splendor,
Even as he feels his dazzled own.--?Then, blindingly, round either thrown,?They feel a stress of arms that ever?Strain