A KISS. [TRIOLET.] OSE kissed me to-day. Will she kiss me to-morrow? Let it be as it may, Rose kissed me to-day. But the pleasure gives way To a savour of sorrow; Rose kissed me to-day, Will she kiss me to-morrow? AUSTIN DOBSON. [RONDEL.] OISS me, sweetheart; the Spring is here, K The blue-bells beckon each passing bee; The wild wood laughs to the flowered year: There is no bird in brake or brere, But to his little mate sings he, "Kiss me, sweetheart; the Spring is here, The blue sky laughs out sweet and clear; Pipes for sheer gladness, loud and free; "Kiss me, sweetheart; the Spring is here, And Love is Lord of you and me!" JOHN PAYNE, [RONDEAU.] IS poisoned shafts, that fresh he dips He takes, and with his bow renown'd, Hanging his quiver at his hips. He draws them one by one, and clips But if a maiden with her lips Suck from the wound the blood that drips, The simple remedy is found That of their deadly terror strips His poisoned shafts. ROBERT BRIDGES. [RONDEAU.] ITH pipe and flute the rustic Pan Of old made music sweet for man; And closer drew the calm-eyed herd, The rolling river slowlier ran. Ah! would,-ah! would, a little span, This age of ours, too seldom stirred But now for gold we plot and plan ; Apollo's self might pass unheard, Or find the night-jar's note preferred. . . Not so it fared, when time began, With pipe and flute! AUSTIN DOBSON. [RONDEAU.] PF Love should faint, and half decline And, shorn of all his golden dress, Be no more worth a heart like thine, Let not thy nobler passion pine, Let Memory ply her soft address And oh! this laggard soul of mine, Like some halt pilgrim stirred with wine, Shall ache in pity's dear distress Until the balms of thy caress To work the finished cure combine, If Love should faint. EDMUND W. GOSSE. |