Can this broad hat, fasten'd under Half too changed to speak I thought her, Few her words; yet, like a sister, Shadows, which are not of sadness, Touch her eyes, and brow above. As pale wild roses dream of redness, Dreams her innocent heart of love. WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. SERENADE. I. LEEP, lady fair! Oh but thy couch should be The fleeciest cloudlet of the summer air, I keep warm in my true breast, Dream, lady sweet! II. The moon and planets bright Now thread thy slumbers with unsounding feet, Now drench thy fancies with unshaped delight: As my spirit fain would steep Thine, when only half asleep, This night, this night! III. Wake, lady mine! See! are awake the flowers, Their opening cusps bright tipped with dewy wine, And, buoyed on song, the moist lark trills and towers. Wake! If thou must be away Nightly, let at least the day Be ours, be ours! ALFRED AUSTIN. AT HER WINDOW. B EATING heart! we come again Where my Love reposes: This is Mabel's window-pane ; These are Mabel's roses. Is she nested? Does she kneel In the twilight stilly; Lily clad from throat to heel, She, my virgin lily? Soon the wan, the wistful stars, Let this friendly pebble plead |