She will not turn aside? Alas! Let them lie. Suppose they die ? The chance was they might take her eye. How many a month I strove to suit She will not hear my music? So! My whole life long I learned to love. And speak my passion. - Heaven or hell? Those who win heaven, blest are they. আ ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE. UNE was not over, Though past the full, And the best of her roses Had yet to blow, When a man I know (But shall not discover, Since ears are dull, And time discloses) Turned him and said, with a man's true air, Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as 't were, — "If I tire of your June, will she greatly care?" Well, Dear, in-doors with you! True, serene deadness Tries a man's temper. What's in the blossom June wears on her bosom? Sweetness and redness, Eadem semper! Go, let me care for it greatly or slightly! If June mends her bowers now, your hand left unsightly By plucking their roses, — my June will do rightly. And after, for pastime, With flowers in completeness, Of wine poured at mass-time, And choose One indulgent To redness and sweetness: Or if, with experience of man and of spider, She use my June-lightning, the strong insect ridder, To stop the fresh spinning,—why June will consider. MISCONCEPTIONS. HIS is a spray the Bird clung to, Making it blossom with pleasure, Ere the high tree-top she sprung to, Fit for her nest and her treasure. O, what a hope beyond measure Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to, - So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! This is a heart the Queen leant on, Thrilled in a minute erratic, Ere the true bosom she bent on, Meet for love's regal dalmatic. O, what a fancy ecstatic Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on, Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on! |