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On fields of strange men's feet, Or fields near home?
Or where the fire-flowers blow, Or where the flowers of snow Or flowers of foam?
We are in love's hand to-day--
Land me, she says, where love Shows but one shaft, one dove, One heart, one hand,-- A sh.o.r.e like that, my dear, Lies where no man will steer, No maiden land.
Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]
MARY BEATON'S SONG From "Chastelard"
Between the sunset and the sea My love laid hands and lips on me; Of sweet came sour, of day came night, Of long desire came brief delight: Ah love, and what thing came of thee Between the sea-downs and the sea?
Between the sea-mark and the sea Joy grew to grief, grief grew to me; Love turned to tears, and tears to fire, And dead delight to new desire; Love's talk, love's touch there seemed to be Between the sea-sand and the sea.
Between the sundown and the sea Love watched one hour of love with me; Then down the all-golden water-ways His feet flew after yesterday's; I saw them come and saw them flee Between the sea-foam and the sea.
Between the sea-strand and the sea Love fell on sleep, sleep fell on me; The first star saw twain turn to one Between the moonrise and the sun; The next, that saw not love, saw me Between the sea-banks and the sea.
Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]
PLIGHTED
Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty!
Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty: Love given willingly, full and free, Love for love's sake,--as mine to thee.
Duty's a slave that keeps the keys, But Love, the master, goes in and out Of his goodly chambers with song and shout, Just as he please,--just as he please.
Mine, from the dear head's crown, brown-golden, To the silken foot that's scarce beholden; Give to a few friends hand or smile, Like a generous lady, now and awhile, But the sanctuary heart, that none dare win, Keep holiest of holiest evermore; The crowd in the aisles may watch the door, The high-priest only enters in.
Mine, my own, without doubts or terrors, With all thy goodnesses, all thy errors, Unto me and to me alone revealed, "A spring shut up, a fountain sealed."
Many may praise thee,--praise mine as thine, Many may love thee,--I'll love them too; But thy heart of hearts, pure, faithful, and true, Must be mine, mine wholly, and only mine.
Mine!--G.o.d, I thank Thee that Thou hast given Something all mine on this side heaven: Something as much myself to be As this my soul which I lift to Thee: Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, Life of my life, whom Thou dost make Two to the world for the world's work's sake,-- But each unto each, as in Thy sight, one.
Dinah Maria Mulock Craik [1826-1887]
A WOMAN'S QUESTION
Before I trust my fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy future give Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.
I break all slighter bonds, nor feel A shadow of regret: Is there one link within the past That holds thy spirit yet?
Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?
Does there within thy dimmest dreams A possible future s.h.i.+ne, Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, Untouched, unshared by mine?
If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost.
Look deeper still. If thou canst feel, Within thy inmost soul, That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole, Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.
Is there within thy heart a need That mine cannot fulfil?
One chord that any other hand Could better wake or still?
Speak now--lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay.
Lives there within thy nature hid The demon-spirit change, Shedding a pa.s.sing glory still On all things new and strange?
It may not be thy fault alone,--but s.h.i.+eld my heart against thy own.
Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day And answer to my claim, That Fate, and that to-day's mistake-- Not thou--had been to blame?
Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou wilt surely warn and save me now.
Nay, answer not,--I dare not hear, The words would come too late; Yet I would spare thee all remorse, So, comfort thee, my Fate,-- Whatever on my heart may fall--remember, I would risk it all!
Adelaide Anne Procter [1825-1864]
"DINNA ASK ME"
O, dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye: Troth, I daurna tell!
Dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye,- Ask it o' yoursel'.
O, dinna look sae sair at me, For weel ye ken me true; O, gin ye look sae sair at me, I daurna look at you.
When ye gang to yon braw, braw town, And bonnier la.s.sies see, O, dinna, Jamie, look at them, Lest ye should mind na me.
For I could never bide the la.s.s That ye'd lo'e mair than me; And O, I'm sure my heart wad brak, Gin ye'd prove fause to me!
John Dunlop [1755-1820]
A SONG
Sing me a sweet, low song of night Before the moon is risen, A song that tells of the stars' delight Escaped from day's bright prison, A song that croons with the cricket's voice, That sleeps with the shadowed trees, A song that shall bid my heart rejoice At its tender mysteries!
And then when the song is ended, love, Bend down your head unto me, Whisper the word that was born above Ere the moon had swayed the sea; Ere the oldest star began to s.h.i.+ne, Or the farthest sun to burn,-- The oldest of words, O heart of mine, Yet newest, and sweet to learn.
Hildegarde Hawthorne [18--
