S N the long enchanted weather, When lovers came together, And fields were bright with blossoming, When the poet lay for hours, Or for hours stood beholding Its casket of rich jewelries, And boundless wealth outpoured ; Saw the precious-looking roses Its glowing hand uncloses, The pearls of dew and emeralds Spread over grass and sward; When he heard besides the singing, Mysterious voices ringing With clear unearthly ecstasies Through earth and sky and air; Then he wondered for whose pleasure At whose feet it was laid : Yea, for what celestial leman, But his heart constrained him, sinking Back to its sweetest thinking, His lady all to celebrate, And tell her beauty's worth. And he sought at length what tender Oh, the love within him overflowed, So he took, in his emotion, Of sadness from the wind; G 98 IN THE LONG ENCHANTED WEATHER. And a piteous way of sighing From the leaves when they were dying, With all his own combined; Yea, he stole indeed some phrases And with these he did so fashion The poem of his passion, The lady still is listening, And still the poet sings! ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY. A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS. HEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long, Sing hid, sweet honey And my Love's lips. |